


I Thought I Was Just Haunted (Then I Saw You On My TV Screen)

by MalachiWalker



Series: Rhythm & Blues (C'mon, Darlin', Make Some Noise) [2]
Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: "After ten years and five pages of relentlessly pining for her", "Fellas is is gay to see your disappeared ex on TV and immediately lose your shit", -sax solo- REUNITED AND IT FEELS SO GOOD!, Adora curses about as much as Catra, Along with Chaos Gremlin Glimmer, Also hope you're ready to wax lyrical about music, And some subtle shade thrown at Light Hope for good measure, F/F, Flashbacks to said serious injuries, Frustrated artists, Gratuitous abuse of italics, Hurt/Comfort, Introducing 'No Chill Catradora', Not-so subtle critiques of the music industry, Now with an actual rock concert!, Reminiscing over shared experiences before taking a hard left into the Feels™, Serious Injuries, She and Glimmer both have repressed anger issues, Some discussion of ableism, allusions to Shadow Weaver's A+ Parenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-18
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2020-12-23 18:37:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 26,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21085964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MalachiWalker/pseuds/MalachiWalker
Summary: Meanwhile, Adora Eternia has got her life on lock down. She's in a pop band (whose work is not respected by others in the industry.) She has a steady record deal (and has to endure a steady stream of besuited menaces telling her how to do her job.) She went to Juilliard (and lost her ex-besteverythingalong the way.)Yup. Totally got this under control.At least until said ex-best "it's complicated" reenters her life via Adora's television screen. Now Adora's finally got the chance at getting ten years worth of overdue answers, if she doesn't end up strangling Catra first.





	1. Well, Curiosity Didn't Kill This Cat

**Author's Note:**

> Me: Time to work on that redemption fic.  
The Tiny Gremlin That Lives in My Brain: But do you really wanna leave the rock star AU on hold indefinitely after such a vague, teasing opener? Besides, I have some ideas.  
Me: ...
> 
> So yeah, guess this is my life now. But I'm enjoying it, and I hope y'all are too. Heads up, this was originally planned to just be a one-shot... that metastasized into a four chapter monstrosity. I may have a problem. But anyway, on with the show.

Adora Eternia was the kind of person that most people who only superficially knew her would describe as "mellow." Or laid-back. Or non-confrontational, if all they had to go on was what they had seen through talk shows and behind-the-scenes interviews. Some people even snarked that she was the perfect kind of person to be the leader of a pop group: bland in an inoffensive way, but she could sing and play guitar and that, in their minds, was the bare minimum you needed to be a successful pop musician.

Of course, the people who _actually_ knew Adora also knew that wasn't the case. Those were the people who recognized that she had come from nothing; orphaned almost from birth, her one and only lucky break had been her acceptance into Right Zone Academy of Arts at age 5 after one of the caregivers at the orphanage had realized that the little girl who was always singing and humming had perfect pitch. A valuable talent for a musician, and something that deserved to be cultivated, they said.

Hilariously enough, people tended to paint her as a prodigy because of it: someone who had shown immense talent from an early age and then “squandered” it on pop music. Those people had no idea of the years that she had spent slaving over her art, learning instruments and theory and ways to harmonize and bring it all together until it felt like her head would crack under the pressure.

Adora had talent as a child, sure, but not as much as people tended to assume when they heard she grew up in a school for music. Talent could only carry you so far when it came to art. It had to be tempered with understanding: you had to know the underlying principles of what made things sound good and _why,_ and then combine that knowledge with the vision in your head in a process that was usually less orderly and structured and more an artistic splatter fest. Inherently messy. That was what the creative process _was_, once you stripped away the bullshit people draped it in to make themselves feel better.

No matter how much the media tended to paint her as someone who coasted by on natural talent and the so-called "easiness" of her genre of choice, Adora Eternia had spent her entire life fighting tooth and nail to get where she was today.

And right now, Adora was _pissed_.

"Stupid clip-on tie wearing asshole wants to tell me how to make music," She snarled as she balled up another failed attempt at reworking BFS’s latest song and tossed it over her shoulder. It hit the wall and bounced off the trash can that was by now vomiting similar pieces of paper. She continued to mutter under her breath in an exaggerated falsetto, "'Oh, these instrumentals are too complicated for your audience. Why don't you break it down to the four chords? That's traditional.' Fuck you! I didn't go to Juilliard just to have some jackass who bathes in cheap cologne tell me how to do my job!"

The pencil snapped in her hand. Adora stared at it blankly for a moment before tossing it aside and kicking away from her desk. The motion sent her desk chair toward the center of her room, and she let the momentum carry her as she leaned back and rubbed a hand over her eyes.

"God, this sucks,” She muttered, only now registering the empty ache in her belly and the telltale tightening of a cluster headache beginning to develop behind her right eye.

What was it Bow had said the last time Glimmer blew a gasket over her mother's executive decisions? "Love the music, hate the industry?"

_Sounds about right._

Drawing her knees up to her chest, she spun the chair for a second. Not fast enough to trigger vertigo or make her dizzy, just enough to let her feel the sensation of movement beyond her closed eyes.

For just a moment, she remembered a quiet voice, clawed hands resting lightly on her shoulders and the sensation of someone leaning over the back of the chair to look down at her.

_"That bad, huh? Tell you what, let me play you something I've been working on. Then we can look at your stuff together. You probably just need a second pair of eyes."_

And God, she _needed_ that now. Glimmer and Bow were great friends and good musicians, but they didn't understand the music the way Adora did. They didn't see how the theory and the little bits and pieces came together in her mind and synthesized themselves into something that was simultaneously logical and instinctively _right_. The two of them were musicians, like her, but to them music was a job: something they were good and passionate about, yes, but still a job. They hadn't lived and breathed the art day in and day out their entire lives, utterly focused, until the music was as much a part of them as their hands or their voices.

They didn't understand what it meant to Adora. Not like Catra had.

She didn't just need a second pair of eyes. She needed _her_ pair of eyes, and everything that came with it. Catra had never been a technician the way Adora was; she understood the base theory underneath the music, the math and the psychology and the principals, but she'd always been willing to throw that straight out the window and create something new and exciting out of the sound, something Adora would have never even considered.

But more importantly, Catra knew how _Adora_ worked and she would patiently follow her logic and figure out what Adora was trying to say through her compositions in a way that no one else even tried. And while she made light suggestions whenever she helped Adora tweak her work, she never tried to force Adora out of her comfort zone of structure and theory. She didn't try to make Adora's style emulate her own, and as a result the little unorthodox touches she added to those places that had Adora frustrated and stumped actually served to _highlight_ the overall structure of her work, not distract people away from it. And more often than not, those suggestions made the music shine brighter for that very reason.

Their personal styles and approach to the craft couldn't have been more different, but in many ways they had built each other over twelve years of shared living, learning, and above all, _music_. Together, it had genuinely felt like they could do anything. The stars had been the limit, and all they had to do was reach out and grab hold.

And then the accident happened. And afterwards, Catra had seemingly dropped off the face of the earth.

Adora swallowed hard, remembering those three long, bitter years of searching only to be told again and again the same thing: there was no Catra Leandros registered as living anywhere in any city across Etheria. There was no Catra Leandros in the workforce. About the _only_ good news they could tell her was that there wasn't a Catra Leandros buried six feet under in some lonely grave, though one particularly insensitive investigator had suggested that she could be a Jane Doe.

Adora had literally broken the arm of the cheap IKEA chair in his office just to keep from launching herself across the desk and strangling him with his own tie.

And at that point, she had... Not given up, but stopped hiring people to look for Catra when it was clear she wouldn't be found.

Her friends didn't understand that it was impossible to give up completely, not when she still found herself scanning every crowd for the swish of a dark tail, the glittering of mismatched eyes, a cocky "Hey Adora," on her lips. Ten years apart, and she still found herself stopping every orange and dark striped Magicat she saw in the hope that _maybe, just maybe..._

Most of them were pretty understanding when Adora sheepishly explained that she thought they were an old friend of hers, but it still didn't help the knife that twisted in her gut with every dashed hope.

Ten long years, and at this point Adora was beginning to think that the only way she'd ever see her best friend/partner-in-crime/one-time-_everything_ again would be through a literal act of fate.

_Great. First the music won't come, now the bad memories. What's next, a rehash of Shadow Weaver and her bullshit?_

Despite the caustic nature of her thoughts, Adora smiled a little, remembering the time Catra had explained to her and the rest of their little misfits about her new code name for the school's main overseer. _"I mean, it fits right? I swear every time she enters a room it gets darker, and that's when she's in a good mood. Not to mention her fashion sense, bleh."_

That was why she couldn't let go. Despite all the pain of the past decade, all the wondering and second-guessing and hurt feelings and "why"s. In spite of all that, those memories still made Adora smile. They still made her life a little brighter.

At least, that was the takeaway that a few good years of therapy had gotten her. "Hold on to the good memories, let yourself draw strength from them, but don't let trying to recapture them consume you, Adora. You don't need Catra to complete you, and if she does return to your life it would be unhealthy for both of you if you aren't able to reconcile the past with the realities of the present."

Ok, she admitted it: that had hurt. But one ongoing problem she had with Dr. Lucia Hope was their long-term quibble over one thing: although she probably wouldn't have said the same when she was a freshman in college and the pain was still sharp and ragged, Adora didn't _need_ Catra. She was a perfectly functional twenty eight year old—and fairly stable considering the fact that her profession seemed to attract the emotionally unstable like flies to honey (but at least Adora was actually doing something about her issues.) At the end of the day, Adora could live her entire life never seeing Catra again and still consider herself a success.

The problem, which Dr. Hope didn't seem to fully understand, was that Adora didn't _want_ to do that. She didn't seem to get the weight of the shared memories, the mutual understanding, the way they almost set the world on fire when they played together. The way that having Catra at her back had made growing up in the Fright Zone (and Adora still had to bite her tongue to keep herself from referring to it as such whenever it came up in interviews) so much brighter, no matter what the adults did to them. Instead, Dr. Hope worried that Adora's desire to see Catra again was a sign of neuroses, of a burgeoning obsession.

Adora didn't _need_ Catra to be a whole person, but she still _wanted_ to be by her side, and that was the truth that had been rubbing across her heart with sandpaper roughness for just a little over a decade.

In the end, it was the not knowing that truly ate away at her. Even if by some miracle she found Catra again and the other woman wanted nothing to do with her that would still be _some_ resolution. It would hurt like hell, but it would at least free up the space Catra's ghost had kept inside her for the past ten years.

The last time she saw her, Catra was smiling a small, sad smile at her from the hospital bed, wincing a little as she instinctively moved to wave Adora away with the shattered remnants of her dominant hand. _"I promise I'll be fine, Adora. So go show those rich kids at Juilliard how the Fright Zone kids make noise. I'll catch up when I can."_

At the time, Adora had known in her guts that something was desperately _wrong_, but she'd put it down to her own grief at the crumbling of their shared dreams. But Catra had told her to move forward, and she had. Going to Juilliard together, getting to learn from some of the greatest musicians the world had to offer, that had been _their_ dream and Adora had been hell-bent and determined to make the most of it. For both of them.

Now, she wished she had told Catra to shut up and stayed at that bedside. Her life would probably be completely different, but she'd have Catra, and she'd be free of this painful _want_ in her chest. No, the want that hypothetical Adora would have would be the same want that had driven the two of them their entire lives; want for music, want for a life based around it, wanting to show the world what they were made of and have a blast doing it.

"Damnit, Catra," And now Adora, ten years later but still just as dumb and full of yearning, wiped away the tears that were threatening to fall. "We both got out, so why aren't you here?"

_The look on Catra's face when the doctor dispassionately declared, "I'm sorry, Miss Leandros, but even with physical therapy you'll be extremely fortunate if you can regain enough mobility to even hold a pen. But you will never be able to play with your left hand again."_

Adora sighed, fingers splaying on the arm of her chair as she forced herself to her feet. While she and Dr. Hope had plenty of disagreements, one thing they did agree on was that it did Adora no good to sit around picking at old wounds. Productivity was key, doing something would help her get out of her own head.

"Okay," She coached herself, the way she had ever since she was a kid (_Catra always thought that was funny--_stop_ thinking about her for heaven's sake!_) putting her hands on her hips and casting a critical eye over her room, with its bed that hadn't been made in like a week and the trash can that was more and more beginning to resemble the unfortunate victim of a homicide. "Go hang with Bow and Glimmer for a while, vent a little, then get a shower and whip this place into shape. Get back into routine. These forced rewrites are throwing you off, and if you wanna do your best you're gonna need that stability."

Her stomach growled pitifully at that. "Okay, food and coffee first. _Then_ the plan."

Nodding decisively, she exited the room and padded down the hallway toward the kitchen and living room that BFS had been sharing for the last six years, courtesy of Bright Moon Records and its vested interest in making sure their artists lived in a place that was both private enough to live and work in and had decent deterrents to both the paparazzi and the occasional obsessive fan. (It happened.) The fact that—unlike most other bands signed to BMR—they hadn't had to pay for said home security out of their record deal... Well, that probably had more to do with Glimmer's mom being the head of the company than good business sense, but Adora was willing to overlook the nepotism in this case if it meant she wasn't being pestered every time she left the building.

As she approached the other side of the apartment, she began to hear the two other members of BFS arguing back and forth about something.

"C'mon, Glimmer, it's just an interview. It's not like I'm threatening to strap you down and play all their albums at you."

"I just don't get why you like them! I mean, they named their first tour 'Fuck the Haters,' Bow. Talk about being vulgar just for the sake of it."

"Pretty sure they put an asterisk in the swear instead of the U."

"Pretty sure that doesn't matter when everyone knew what it meant anyway! So they're not just crass, but _sarcastically_ so. I know hard rock isn't really my thing, but I could probably appreciate it more if bands like that didn't get up in your face with their aggression and flaunt their collective bad attitude."

"Weren't you the one getting up in Mrs. Angella's face the other day about the rewrites?"

"That's different. At least _I_ have a good reason. But bands like No Plan B are just angry and vulgar for the pure sake of it."

"What are you two bickering about?" Adora asked as she entered the kitchen, glancing over to see her two best friends hanging out on the couch in front of their massive widescreen TV, which was thankfully muted. Like Adora, they were both dressed in PJs but unlike Adora... Glimmer and Bow looked like they had actually changed out of said PJs in the day or two since Adora locked herself in her room after the disastrous meeting with the record execs.

"She lives!" Bow cheered, while Glimmer waved and mouthed a "Hi Adora" at her. "How's the composing going?"

"Terrible," Adora groused as she reached into the cabinet above the coffee machine to retrieve her favorite mug, which read 'Sword Lesbian'—a gag gift that she nonetheless remained stupidly fond of. "Stupid stuffed shirts want me to 'dumb it down for the audience.' Even had the audacity to suggest the Four Chords of Pop. Could they make it any more obvious how little they think of our fans?"

"Ugh, tell me about it," Glimmer groaned, running a hand over her face and gesturing at the new bags under her eyes. "They're forcing me to rework the lyrics to be more 'family friendly'. As if the kids who listened to us when we started out aren't teenagers or young adults by now. Whatever happened to maturing with your audience?"

"Oh great. Be sure to send me the reworked lyrics later so I can adjust the instrumentals. _Again_."

"You got it. Assuming I don’t try to hang myself first."

Coffee now in hand, Adora made her way to stand next to the couch, gesturing at the remote sitting between the two. Both Glimmer and Bow had a hand on it, so they must have been fighting over custody before Adora came in and distracted them. "So what's going on again?"

"Bow wants to watch an interview with the lead singer of some indie rock band that's making waves after their first headliner tour. I personally don't get the attraction, which I was just explaining to him before you came in."

"Well for one, they did it the old fashioned way by touring around the country and gathering fans instead of signing on with a record company right out of the gate like we did. You don't see that happening much these days. Secondly, when the _Horde_ approached them for a deal, they literally turned them down flat!"

"Well, that at least shows they have some good taste," Glimmer muttered, even as her lips curled up in a sly smile at the thought of BMR's only major competitor being told to get lost.

"Right? And the entire group has been pretty vocal in discussing a lot of the BS in the music industry that you yell about all the time, like forced artistic changes and gatekeeping talented musicians because they don't fit a particular mold. I've been following them on twitter and their website for a few days now, and a lot of the writing is actually really thoughtful and articulate."

"If only they could show some of that in their songs," She groused back, sticking out her tongue at him.

"Look, Glimmer, it's a _morning_ talk show," Bow protested with vigorous jazz hands, the second-to-last line of defense against a grumpy Glimmer. "It's not like she's gonna be swearing up a storm on public TV. Plus, this lead singer is pretty aloof and has mostly kept out of the spotlight unless it was with the rest of the band. This is literally the first time she's _ever_ done a solo interview and I wanna hear what she has to say."

"Then why not just record it and watch it later? Or on the net?"

"I dunno, there's just something that feels right about watching it in the morning," Bow shrugged, leaning back against the couch and pulling his legs up to sit cross legged. "Plus this way I don't have to worry about news feeds spoiling anything. Pleeeeease Glimmer?"

Glimmer lasted about two seconds before caving beneath the force of Bow's puppy dog eyes (AKA the last line of defense against Glimmer-ly Grumpiness.) "Ugh, fine. But we're watching Brooklyn 99 after this. The good episodes."

"Not sure why you phrased that like it’s a punishment, but deal."

Adora sipped at her coffee, watching with mild interest as the screen changed to a pretty woman with pink hair and a brilliant smile.

"Hey, isn't that Netossa's girlfriend?" Glimmer asked. Netossa was a musician signed with Bright Moon who—rather than being associated with any one particular band—was brought on when groups needed a particular instrument but not often enough to need a full time member. She'd worked with BFS on a few different songs when they'd needed a keyboardist or a piano player. If Adora remembered correctly, her longtime girlfriend Spinerella had also worked at BMR as a sound technician before moving on to something different. Guess this was that something.

"Yeah, she got into doing talk shows with musicians after she left the industry. Since she's such a sweetheart and can ask actual music questions, she eventually got her own show."

"Good for her! Remind me to send her a nice gift basket or something. She did some real fantastic work on our third album."

On screen, the obligatory opening claps died down and Spinerella turned to the camera. "For those of you just tuning in, we have a treat for you today. Last week we interviewed all of the members of No Plan B, an indie hard rock band that has been making major waves recently after an extremely well-received tour. However, there is one member of the band that the fans have been wanting to hear more from, so for the first time in her career we here at RBLN managed to score a one-on-one interview. So please join me in welcoming the ever-enigmatic lead singer and guitarist for No Plan B... Catra Leandros!"

And suddenly, Adora's world narrowed to a single point with all the grace and gravitas of a flaming semi-truck crashing into a circus.

Because there, on the TV screen, was _Catra_. Catra, dressed in ripped jeans and a dark leather jacket like any self-respecting rock star (no combat boots though, the part of her brain not occupied with screaming noted, but then Catra never wore shoes if she could help it. Magicat perks.) Catra, with that same little smirk she always wore when it was time to perform, that "Yeah, I'm hot shit and I know it," look. Catra, reaching out with fingerless-gloved hands to return Spinerella’s handshake with a red and black electric guitar slung over her back like she was gonna rip into a power solo right there on stage.

Catra, who had disappeared off the face of the earth and now crashed back into Adora's reality on her goddamn _TV screen_ of all things.

_Her_ Catra.

_Was this what you meant earlier by an act of fate?_

There was a distant shatter of porcelain as the cup slipped from Adora's hands and hit the floor, followed by a surprised pair of yelps and "Adora, you okay?"

But at that moment, there was only one thing on Adora's mind.

"WHAT IN THE ACTUAL FUCK?!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, the cat's already in the doghouse and they haven't even been in the same room yet. RIP Catra. Be sure to subscribe if you wanna see what happens next and give me a kudos or a comment if you're so inclined. I would love to hear what you guys think. Also, I wanna assure you guys that if any of the characters seem OOC there is a definite reason for it that is going to be explored as the season goes on (though I did hint at it in the previous fic.)
> 
> Next time: Adora briefly considers murder, Bow is the voice of reason, and an interview sheds some light on a nagging questions (but ultimately raises even more.)


	2. ... But At The Moment, I Just Might

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which an interview is watched, some questions are answered, more are raised, Catra casually drops a bombshell and Adora has a well-earned mental breakdown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys. Thanks so much for the enthusiasm you've shown this fic so far. I'm really grateful for the response. This chapter starts off light-hearted but it quickly gets into some really heavy themes. In particular, Adora suffers from two brief flashbacks to the "accident" that both she and Catra have alluded to, and although I don't describe it in graphic detail it definitely isn't pretty. So use caution around the three quarters mark and the very end of the chapter.
> 
> Also, a quick note on the formatting of this chapter and going forward (I'll edit the first two later): flashbacks are done in italics, with underlined words being emphasized. I know that the usual rule is to switch it back to normal Roman if you want emphasis in an italicized setting, but I didn't like the way it looked in this font--it was too easy to miss compared to italics. Meanwhile, any media interviews going forward will be in transcript format like you would see in a magazine, mostly so I don't have to bog the chapter down with unnecessary descriptions but also italicized to provide an easy transition between the interviews and the reactions of people watching them. That way I don't have to litter the entire thing with section breaks. And of course, thoughts are italicized, but usually attached to descriptive paragraphs or obvious enough that I don't think I have to worry about any confusion (though of course let me know if a sentence is confusing or doesn't read right and I'll try to straighten it out.) 
> 
> Now on with the show.

There's one memory of Catra that Adora holds onto harder than anything.

_"You remember what I promised you when we were kids?" Catra, seventeen years old and watching her with a small smile across her lips as the two sat together beneath the massive elm outside their bedroom window, the same one she would sometimes climb—guitar strapped to her back—just so she could play Adora her latest creation with the appropriate amount of showiness. Catra, dressed in jeans and a white tank top and her ridiculously 90s jean jacket with all the band pins and ironic patches over it, holding onto her acoustic with its brand new bridge of bone that Adora had squirreled away lunch money for weeks to pay for because God she wanted Catra to have something nice that would last, just once..._

_Just Catra, who should have looked plain next to the kaleidoscope of autumn leaves that surrounded them, and still effortlessly managing to be the most vibrant thing in Adora's life._

_"You've got my back if I've got yours?" Adora had grinned cheekily, trying to play off the way that looking at Catra—relaxed and unguarded and so damn beautiful—felt like everything in that moment._

_"You got it," Catra winked, and boy did that do some interesting things to the rhythm of Adora's heart. "So just chill. In a way, we've got an advantage on all those other kids applying. Everyone likes a good sob story about orphans and it's great publicity."_

_"But there are plenty of other kids trying for the same schola-" Adora started to protest, but froze when Catra just nudged her with a laugh, warmth bleeding through the contact point between their bodies._

_"Lemme finish. You see, the way I figure we've got an unbeatable combo. We're a pair of pitiful orphans, so we've got the sob story angle that makes people feel good about themselves for deigning to let in lower class scum. But..." And here she started strumming the opening chords to "Bad Company" with a cheeky grin of her own. "We've also got the skills to back it up. Sure, there are probably kids on that list with talent, but there's no one there like you and me."_

_The tension that had been thrumming through Adora since they had sat together filling out the application forms that would (hopefully) be their tickets out of this hell hole finally dissipated, leaving her tired but clear. She leaned back against the tree, folding one leg across the other and sighing contentedly as their shoulders brushed again, Catra's left handedness an unexpected boon since it meant that Adora could lean on her right side without getting in the way of the guitar. "No more bad cafeteria food."_

_Catra snorted. "No more stupid curfews when you're trying to figure out a melody."_

_"No more heaters breaking in the dead of winter."_

_"No more arguments about what counts as real music."_

_"No more..." Adora stopped, the words right on the tip of her tongue. Did she really want to go there, the line they'd both tip-toed around for years?_

_But this was Catra. And this was them dreaming about the future. So the answer was always going to be a resounding yes._

_"No more Shadow Weaver."_

_Catra missed her strum, and there was a shriek of metal as her claws involuntarily flexed and danced across the strings. Adora cringed, ready for an outburst of anger._

_But Catra just sighed, rubbing a hand across her face and then reached over to intertwine her fingers with Adora's._

_"No more Shadow Weaver."_

_Maybe this was what people talked about when they discussed things like fate and events that were meant to be. All Adora knew was that she had a bone deep certainty that this, or something very nearly like this, had happened somewhere before._

_"You promise?" She asked._

_Catra's hand squeezed hers, a little clumsily (it wasn't her good hand, after all.)_

_'"I promise."_

And now Adora's personal ghost was sitting on the couch of some _talk show_, like she didn't have a care in the world. Like walking away from their promise hadn't meant anything at all.

"I'm going to kill her," Adora whispered past the sudden rush of pain and adrenaline and _want_ that surged through her at the sight. "Swear to God, when I get ahold of that asshole I'm gonna kill her."

Or kiss her. She hadn't quite decided yet.

"Whoa, hang on, what's going on here?" Bow asked, grabbing the remote and pausing the TV, right on Catra and that damn smirk.

"What do you mean 'what's going on?!'" Adora's voice cracked as she gestured at the screen. "It's _Catra_!"

"Well yeah," Glimmer said slowly, looking at Adora like she'd just grown two heads. Then again, she hadn't freaked out this badly since her days in the Fright Zone, so Glimmer couldn't really be blamed for that. "I mean, they just said her name like two minutes ago."

"No! Not 'a' Catra," Adora shouted. "_MY_ Catra!"

"Whoa, wait—_what?_" And now Bow was getting in on the shouting. "You mean your roommate from Right Zone? The one that disappeared?"

"No, Bow, the Catra who made my sandwich at Subway last week," Adora snarled, her patience running thin with how little her friends were _getting_ this. "Yes, _that_ Catra! What did you think I meant? And how the hell am I just finding out about this now?!"

"Hang on there, deep breaths first," Bow held up his hands in a placating gesture, waiting until Adora began to obey—breathing slowly in and out even though her heart was hammering away like a redlined engine—before continuing. "Like, yeah, I _did_ notice the name. But you never told us her last name was Leandros. Sure, Catra's an unusual first name, but I just thought that maybe it was more common among Magicat culture. I didn't want to get your hopes up."

And just like that, all the fight drained out of Adora at once. Staggering around the couch, she plopped down between the two, Bow immediately putting one arm around her and Glimmer scooting over so their legs touched. She dropped her head into her hands, only able to breathe a "Holy shit."

"Take your time," Bow advised, squeezing her shoulder. "I get that this is a big shock for you."

Adora barked a laugh. "You have _no_ idea. I've got so many questions. I barely even know where to start."

"Oh boy," Glimmer sighed beside her, reaching over to grab the remote. "You guys do realize that if I'm stuck being the voice of reason here, we are all seriously screwed."

When Adora glanced over, she gave her a _Look_, then continued. "Look, your freak-out is fully justified. But remember what Bow said? This is her first solo interview ever, and those are always more personal than the group discussions. So if you want answers, watching this may be a way to get some. And if, afterward, you need to go kick her ass... Well, I have a car and a baseball bat you can borrow."

Adora actually managed to crack a smile at that one. "I guess I'll let you know what I decide."

Glimmer grinned crookedly at her, then hit play. On screen, the studio applause finally died down, and the interview proper began.

_Spinnerella: First of all, I just wanted to say thank you for taking me up on my offer. To be honest, given your seeming reluctance to conduct one-on-one interviews in the past, I thought it was just a shot in the dark._

_Catra: -smiles- Well, you impressed the entire group last week with your questions, and with Lonnie bugging me to finally get out there and do one it seemed like a good fit._

_Spinnerella: Well, I suppose that's a good enough segue into my first question. Your band has been getting a lot of attention of late, not just for your music—though I must admit to being a fan—but also for your bucking of industry trends. There's been a lot of wondering online about why Lonnie is listed as the leader of the group, despite you being the lead singer, guitarist and writing the bulk of the music._

_Catra: -snorts- Well that's an easy one. The reason I can do all that is because Lonnie's the leader. It's not just a position of power, it's a responsibility. The leader is the forward face of the band, the one who coordinates things, meets with venue owners, the works. The reason I can focus on the music and on giving the fans the best show possible is because I don't have to worry about all that._

_Catra: -frowns and waves hand- Which isn't to say I won't step up to the bat if she needs me to, but trust me when I say that Lonnie is way better at the logistical aspect of the job then I'll ever be. And if she needs a people person to help her do the soft sell, she's got Scorpia for that._

_Spinnerella: -chuckles- Yes, Miss Scorpia's quite exuberant, isn't she?_

_Catra: She's the best. Oh, and I just want to clarify that it’s not really fair to say I write the bulk of the music. Only about half of the songs are written by me alone, and with everything else I try to get the entire group in on it. Make it our thing, you know?_

_Spinnerella: I understand your point of view, but some people would say that being responsible for half the music would qualify you to be the leader of the band._

_Catra: -shakes her head- No. Those songs I write alone I do on my own time and for my own reasons, and frankly I’m usually working on them regardless of whether or not we’re getting ready to do an album. I just show them to the rest of the group later. They get the final say in whether or not they’re included, and frankly it’s a privilege that they let me put so much of my stuff in._

_Spinnerella: Could you maybe elaborate a bit on that?_

_Catra: I suffer from night terrors. So I channel that into my personal compositions as a way of self-soothing._

“Night terrors?” Glimmer asked, glancing at Adora.

“Yeah, and they’re really bad,” Adora murmured, eyes still glued to the screen. “She’s had them since before we met. I was hoping they’d get better over time-”

_After we left the Fright Zone…_

“-but I guess not.”

_Catra: That’s also why our style’s all over the place—I like to dabble in other genres, even if the bulk of what we produce is considered hard rock, so that’s just the label that stuck. Not that genres should mean anything in this day and age, since most people just buy individual tracks they like digitally instead of full albums._

_Spinnerella: Ok, glad we got that misconception out of the way. But that still doesn't explain why you haven't done many interviews. I mean, even in group interviews you're remarkably quiet._

_Catra: That's because I have serious issues with the industry's tendency to glorify lead singers and make them the de facto voice and face of the band. I mean, I understand that part of it is that the voice is what people recognize when they hear a song, but No Plan B is a group effort. And when people treat my crew like they're just accessories... Well, that only makes me want to shine the spotlight on them even harder._

_Spinnerella: That's a really good point, actually. What about your bassist, Rogelio?_

_Catra: Rogelio's actually the one who runs most of our social media. Guy's wicked smart and very observant. He's got a lot of thoughts about the industry. Unfortunately, people don't take him seriously outside of that because they're too lazy to get an interpreter or too stupid to read his words._

_Spinnerella: No offense meant, I'm merely clarifying for the people in the audience who missed last week's interview. Rogelio is mute, correct?_

_Catra: -nods- But not deaf. Lonnie and I grew up with him, so we're both fluent in sign, and Scorpia has learned a lot over the past few years. But like I said, some people can't be bothered to pull their head out of their—well, you know—long enough to see past that._

_Spinnerella: That's awful. Thank you for avoiding that swear, by the way._

_Catra: Don't mention it._

_Spinnerella: You know, some of your fans have been speculating about the chemistry you two display on stage._

_Catra: -pauses for a moment, then bursts out laughing-_

_Spinnerella: -grins- I think that reaction told me all I needed to know._

_Catra: -wipes eyes- Oh man, I hope Lonnie catches Rogelio's face on camera for me to watch later. But no, the guy’s like a brother to me, and he's as gay as the day is long. The only reason why people haven't figured that out is because he's been in a committed relationship since we were all like fifteen, so he and his boyfriend have reached that phase where they're so natural around each other the casual viewers might not pick up on it. As for myself..._

_Catra: -smiles and gestures down the length of her frame- Honestly I'm a little concerned about how anyone can look at this and think "Yes, this is someone who is attracted to men."_

_Spinnerella: -laughs- Well you know how some people can be._

_Catra: But what I'm basically saying is that no one on the team is straight. I'm just the only one who's single._

"Adora, are you okay?"

"Man, you're red as a fire truck."

"Focus, you useless lesbian!"

"Leave me alone! Did you just see how she gestured to herself? I can't help that she's impossibly hot!"

"Damnit, Adora, you're supposed to be mad at her!"

"I can be mad and attracted at the same time!"

_Catra: Oh, congrats on your engagement, by the way._

_Spinnerella: -visibly surprised- Wait, how did you know about that? We haven't even announced it outside our close friends and family._

_Catra: Noticed the ring when we were here last week. It's pretty subtle, so I just guessed that it was an engagement ring instead of a wedding ring. -taps her temple with one finger- Like all Magicats, I'm partially colorblind, so shiny things get my attention._

_Spinnerella: Huh. I mean, I don't want to offend you or anything, I just don't know a whole lot about Magicats, so that's interesting to learn._

_Catra: Well, you're free to ask more questions if you want. It's just a fact that’s more or less taken for granted in our culture, so it doesn't really come up a lot._

_Spinnerella: If you don't mind me asking, what colors can't you see?_

_Catra: Well, unlike humans—who are usually red-green colorblind—we mostly just can't see reds, though I understand that the way we see yellow is really washed out compared to the way humans view it, but we can still see it. So yeah, mostly just reds. -reaches out and taps the guitar- I had to drag the entire band with me to the store when I bought this bad boy, just to make sure it was the right shade. Just looks black and grey to me._

_Spinnerella: I've been meaning to ask about that. I mean, that you brought your guitar with you. Any chance we could get an impromptu show?_

_-Cheers from the audience-_

_Catra: -smiles as the cheers die down- Maybe not today, but I'd be happy to work something out if you ever wanna have me on again. It's just an old habit I haven't made an effort to break. Where I go, my guitar goes._

_Spinnerella: Is it like a security blanket, or...?_

_Catra: Little bit. But it's mostly because it was the only thing of value I had. I spent about three years living on the streets._

"Pausepausepause!" Adora whisper-shouted frantically as Glimmer fumbled for the remote and obeyed. Then she sat back heavily against the couch, running her hands down her face and letting out a scream that escalated in volume. "Oh my God, WHAT THE FUUUUUCK?!"

"Holy crap," Bow said beside her, eyes wide as saucers. "I was not expecting that. Like, at all."

"Honestly, me either," Glimmer chimed in as she rubbed a hand comfortingly against the back of Adora's neck. "I thought maybe she was just an inconsiderate asshole, not... Whatever this is."

"Why didn't she _call_ me?" Adora whined, tears in her eyes, her chest aching at the thought of Catra surviving alone on the streets for three long years. "I would have dropped _everything_ in a heartbeat to come get her."

"I mean, if she was homeless she probably didn't have a cell phone. And pay phones are basically non-existent at this point," Bow pointed out.

Glimmer shook her head. "While that is probably true, that doesn't mean she couldn't have borrowed somebody else's phone for a minute. There's gotta be another reason."

Bow was silent for a moment, glancing between Adora and the frozen screen. "I mean... We might get an answer if we keep watching."

Adora nodded shakily, taking a deep breath to steady herself before sitting back up and staring at the TV like she had just personally declared war on its entire family. "Ok. Just... Ok."

_Spinnerella: -visibly shocked- You what? I mean, I was under the impression that most graduates of Right Zone Academy of Arts either signed on with Horde Records or became teachers following graduation._

And there it was. It was so subtle that most people wouldn't have noticed it. But Adora knew Catra, even now, and she could still recognize her tells; the way her fingers briefly flexed into claws, the stiffening of her shoulders, the way her tail—‘til that point relaxed across the couch—twitched closer to her body, fur puffed up just a little.

A shadow flickered across Catra's face, just for a moment, only to be swiftly replaced with a smile that would have fooled anyone who didn't really know her.

But not Adora.

_Catra: There was... An accident, of sorts, right before graduation. You've noticed that I play guitar with my right hand, yeah?_

_\--Catra trying to push herself up on her hands and knees underneath the elm tree before collapsing on her side, one side of her face covered in blood from a gash arching across the top of her skull. As Adora literally slid across the grass to get to her, she saw the twisted remains of Catra’s acoustic still halfway beneath her._

_And then she saw the red ruin of Catra’s left hand._

_Spinnerella: Of course. I mean, that's not terribly unusual for a guitarist._

_Catra: It is when you're naturally left-handed. -raises her left hand and wiggles her fingers, but they only move a short way before freezing- It pretty much mangled my hand and killed my ability to play. It took me three long years of practice to get my right hand up to the same level my left had been before._

_Spinnerella: You did all that while homeless?_

_Catra: -nods- Busking. That was how I paid for food._

_Spinnerella: That must have been really hard for you._

_Catra: -shrugs- I mean, in some ways it was easier for me than it would have been for a human. I'm never unarmed -displays claws- and since I'm so furry, most nights of the year I didn't have to worry about finding shelter. Though in the dead of winter I had to play hard to make enough money for a room at the local hostel. Even I have my limits._

_Spinnerella: Um... Apologies if this is a tough question, but you grew up with Lonnie and Rogelio, right? Didn't you think to ask any of them for help?_

_Catra: ..._

_Spinnerella: It's ok if you don't want to answer._

"Answer the question!" Two member of BFS shouted at the screen, while Adora shouted, "God _DAMNIT_ Catra, why didn't you call me?"

But there it was again. That shadow passing over her features, the tightening around her eyes. Catra sighed, and broke eye contact for the first time that morning.

_Catra: No it's fine. Just... -sighs again, running a hand through her hair- Look, I mean... I thought about it. I did. But you've gotta understand, at the time guitar playing was my only marketable skill. My singing was okay, but nothing special. It was only years of using my voice to make up for my shoddy work while relearning to play that got it to where it is now. -chuckles- Guess it goes to show that even a mediocre talent can get better if you practice long enough._

Adora flinched.

_"Will you stop that infernal screeching?" Shadow Weaver's voice rang in Adora's ears, and beside her, Catra jumped. Just a little, her ears flattening back as she fought down the urge to run. "You sound like a cat in heat! Can't you do anything right beyond that grotesque flailing you call guitar playing?"_

On screen, Catra continued.

_Catra: At the time, I didn't want to drag anyone else down. I didn't even know if I would be able to keep playing at that point. I was so scared that I wouldn't ever be as good as I was before and I didn't know what I was going to do if it turned out I would have to give up on it. Everyone else was literally just starting out on their own for the first time. They didn't need me making things harder for them._

_-a moment of silence passes-_

_Catra: Yeah, it seems pretty stupid now, and you can bet that Lonnie gut punched me when she found out. But that was my reasoning at the time. I wasn't in a good place mentally._

_Spinnerella: Wow. So what changed? How did you get from there to here?_

_Catra: Scorpia found me. I noticed her hanging around whenever I played and wondered what her deal was. After a week or two of just watching, she approached me and asked if she could play with me. Next time I went there, she was waiting with a portable drum kit._

_Spinnerella: Sounds like a real act of fate._

_Catra: -smiles softly- Yeah. Anyway, we played together for the next couple of weeks and got to talking, and eventually she raised the possibility of starting up a band. She'd always wanted to be in one and was definitely good enough, but for personal reasons I will not disclose, no one was willing to give her the chance. After she managed to convince me, I called up Lonnie and Rogelio to see if they wanted on board. They said yes, and now here we are._

_Spinnerella: -smiling- Wow. Well, I'm glad to hear that you managed to repair all your bridges._

That shadow again, and this time Catra didn't even bother to hide it.

_Catra: -softly- Not all of them._

_Spinnerella: Oh?_

_Catra: Yeah. There is one person... But by the time I finally felt ready to reach out again, I didn't know what to say. Still don't, really._

Bow and Glimmer were both staring at her. Adora blinked, suddenly aware of the both the tears on her face and the aching wound in her chest. If Catra were in front of her right now, would she punch her and call her an asshole, or grab her tight and never let go?

_Maybe both._

_Catra: But that's my screw up. So for now, I just keep doing what I do. Making good music and putting one foot in front of the other._

_Spinnerella: That's a good way to look at it. I honestly wish we could keep talking, but we are short on time. I understand you and the band are playing the final show of your tour this Friday, correct?_

_Catra: Yup. I think I'm contractually obligated to say we've got a great show planned, but personally I think this one's gonna be pretty awesome, even for us._

_Spinnerella: Well, thank you for coming. And, uh... Thank you for sharing your story. I know it was probably really hard for you to talk about it._

_Catra: -smiles sadly- Yeah, well my therapist says it's good for me to talk about it. And I may have my regrets, but I'm not ashamed of what I lived through. So thanks for having me._

And just like that, it ended.

Adora just sat there, staring into space as Glimmer switched off the TV and she and Bow turned to look at her, feeling like her metaphorical flaming semi-truck had just flattened her into a cartoon-style pancake.

"Hey," Bow said softly, so as not to startle her. "What do you need right now?"

Adora laughed, bitterness biting into the back of her throat as she ran a hand through her hair. "Honestly, I think I need to be alone. And I need to hit something."

Glimmer nodded, patting her on the shoulder. "Exercise room is all yours. We'll leave you some water bottles and orange slices by the door."

"Take your time," Bow added.

Adora nodded shakily at them before climbing to her feet and heading back down the hall. The apartment was actually a four bedroom: Glimmer and Bow's room on one side of the hall, Adora's on the other. The empty room they had converted into a mini gym, complete with weights, a rowing machine, a treadmill, and—most importantly to Adora now—a punching bag.

As she bound up her hands, her mind was racing with everything she had just learned, all the questions answered and the new ones crowding in until her head was a cacophony of sound. No music, no order to be found.

Just the hurt. And the ever-present ache of _want_.

_Red… Too much red. TOO MUCH RED!_

_No one else around. The other students were too busy celebrating. But Catra had left early, saying she had a song she wanted to finish. “I’ll see you later at the usual spot, Adora. Have fun, ok?” _

_Adora looked up at the elm tree, trying to gauge the distance Catra must have fallen. Too high._

_“Fuck,” She hissed, hauling Catra up and over her shoulders in a fireman’s carry before smacking her across the cheek. It wasn’t gentle, but right now she couldn’t afford to be. “Stay awake! If you have a concussion, you could die! Stay awake!”_

_“…dge…” Catra mumbled against her._

_“What?”_

_“The bridge,” Catra hissed between her teeth, looking at Adora, both her eyes fever-bright with condensed pain. “Get the bridge. Don’t leave it behind.”_

_Adora wanted so hard to ignore it and just run straight to the staff quarters._

_But that bridge was the first birthday gift she’d ever been able to give Catra._

_Biting back another curse but not letting her go, she dug through the remnants of the shattered guitar, ignoring the splinters and the blood stained, torn remains of sheet music scattered under the tree. Shoving aside a boot printed page, she finally spotted gleaming white and wrapped her hands around it. “Got it!”_

_Catra sighed in relief._

_And passed out._

Adora fought down the surge of memory. She pounded away at the bag until her knuckles were sore and her shins bruised from too many kicks, but still the ache remained, torn between a desire to rush out and find Catra and her all-too sudden awareness of the vast gulf of years between them. Of everything she’d missed, all the things she hadn’t been there for.

Catra wasn't the only one who didn't know what to say.

Gripping the bag for support, Adora leaned her head against it and cried.

\-----

Back in the living room, with the sounds of Adora beating the crap out of the bag echoing down the hall, Glimmer turned to Bow. "We're going to do something about this, right?"

"Oh definitely," Bow nodded back, pumping his fist for emphasis. "This travesty has gone on long enough. If these two can't find it in themselves to close the distance, than it's up to the Best Friend Squad to push them."

"Yeah, that's not what it stands for."

"It's the family friendly alternative, and Adora is not to be trusted with naming things."

"You're the one who got her the Sword Lesbian mug. I don't know what you expected," Glimmer chuckled, but then stiffened unexpectedly. "Ok, I have an idea. But I'm gonna need to make some calls."

"Oh my God," Bow practically squealed. "We're really doing this. We're gonna make this happen."

"Yup. But I reserve the right to deck Catra if she does something stupid like this again. She gets _one_ chance."

"Pretty sure that's up to Adora, not you."

"And if it were up to Adora they'd be pining over each other 'til the stars go out. Trust me. I've got it all figured out."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me, going into this project: Yeah, Catra is totally that bitch that lives to make grand dramatic gestures and casually drops haunting personal information into the middle of a casual conversation like it's nothing. Just because she's not evil here doesn't mean she has any more chill than canon Catra. When she wants people to know how she feels she goes all out.  
Me, after being briefly possessed by Adora and writing that opening flashback: JESUS CHRIST, ADORA, CALM THE FUCK DOWN.
> 
> So yeah, hysterically enough, Catra is the natural showman of the two but once we get inside Adora's head she somehow manages to have even less chill. Funny how that works out.
> 
> Two quick shout-outs: Catra's outfit in the opening flashback is based off this art by tumblr user artbutitsgay, and was in turn inspired by Seasinkarnadine's fantastic fic The Devil Is In (The Details) I honestly don't know why anyone would be here if they haven't read it already, but I highly recommend it regardless. And lastly, Adora's 'Sword Lesbian' mug is a shout out to Upper West Side, where she received a shirt with the slogan on it also as a gag gift. But if you're into Catradora and you haven't read UWS, I really don't know what to do with you.
> 
> Anyway, as the theater majors say: the plot THICKENS. In the next chapter: Adora is conflicted, a sold-out concert is frequented, Catra shows off her natural flair for the dramatic and Glimmer learns to appreciate other music. Hope to see you there.


	3. Cats Don't Dance (But This One Rocks)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Adora reflects on how she got where she is today, Bow embraces his inner smugness and Glimmer has a truly ridiculous car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, my guys. It turns out that writing a concert while still keeping it interesting was both really hard and one of the most enjoyable challenges of my entire life, but I still ended up clocking nearly six thousand words over eight hazy hours on the concert scene alone. Since the planned chapter ended up being eleven thousand words and more than the other two combined, you get a double update today! Enjoy!

Adora didn’t leave the apartment for the next three days.

That wasn't terribly unusual for her, though Glimmer and Bow were always good at reminding her when the behavior crossed over from a healthy sense of introversion--not to mention seeking to avoid people recognizing her in public, something that still made her uncomfortable ever after seven years in the public eye--and into outright unhealthiness.

They had compromised with each other over the topic, with Adora promising to keep up her exercise routine and spend at least an hour sitting on the balcony soaking up the sun each day she decided not to leave the apartment (_mmm, sweet, sweet vitamin D,_) as well as go out in public with them at least once a week. In exchange, the two of them took time to hang out with her over movies and private jam sessions, with Adora busting out her acoustic to show off the repertoire of classic rock songs she'd cut her teeth on as a child.

It was a good system. Adora liked systems.

But this was starting to push it even for her.

Because from the moment that fateful interview had upended her entire world, only one thought had been ricocheting through her head: _I want to see her. I want to speak to her. But I don't know where to even start._

Part of it was the misplaced guilt. Academically, she knew that she wasn't to blame for Catra's time on the streets. Catra had said it herself: she'd been the one to make that call, had even thought at the time that it was the right one.

But if Catra was responsible for her own decisions, Adora was just as responsible for hers, and it was the memory of walking out of the hospital to catch the plane that would take her a state away, to Juilliard... _That_ was the decision that she kept _picking_ at, going back to it over and over again like running her tongue over the bleeding gap of a freshly lost tooth.

She'd known in her gut that something was wrong, especially with how casual Catra had been with telling her to go ahead. But Catra--despite doing so much for Adora over the years--very rarely asked her for anything in return.

So Adora had obeyed. And now she wished to God she hadn't.

She thought about calling Dr. Hope around day two. But she already knew how that discussion would go: "Hey, Dr. Hope, it turns out my best friend/love of my life is not only alive but a famous rock star who just concluded a major tour. Haha. Also she spent three years homeless and didn't even bother to call me. Wanna help me unpack this issue?"

Yeah, that'd go swimmingly. Next there'd be discussions about fixations and obsession and "letting go." Never mind the fact that Adora was fairly certain that a few days of being upset were well within the range of an accepted emotional response for something like this.

She was starting to feel like some kind of bully for how many times she'd been laying into the punching bag, trying to beat some kind of clarity into herself.

And just to add some icing on top of the mountain of shit in her life, the composing was going _terribly_. Rather than simplifying it the way the clip-on tie brigade wanted, she found the work becoming even more complex, even more intricate as she scribbled away at her desk.

The breaking point came when she looked back over the pages, trying to figure out what exactly was going on, and noticed the particular notes she'd been working on. While some of the stuff was new, dotted across the page were arrangements of notes that Adora knew in her very bones.

All leitmotifs and refrains of the songs she and Catra had poured their hearts into as kids, songs that--in hindsight--had never been particularly good, but that Adora would never be able to truly forget.

"Oh my God..." She groaned into her hands as she kicked her chair away from the desk and flopped onto the still unmade bed. The floodgates had been opened and ten years of emotional inertia were catching up with her all at once, and there wasn't a damn thing she could do about it. "This isn't going to go away, is it? Not until we settle this. Not until I can see her again."

The ceiling, as expected, was entirely unhelpful.

Then again, she reflected as she lay there watching her fan rotate, maybe that _could_ be a solution. Sprinkle bits and pieces of their old songs into BFS's next single, to subtly let Catra know that Adora still thought about her. Still wanted to see her.

But of course, she had absolutely no guarantee that Catra would even listen to it. Pop music had never really been her genre of choice.

_"I mean, it's not the music itself that's bad," Thirteen year old Catra had tried to explain as they sat together on their bed, a battery powered radio droning away beside them as they practiced transcribing by ear. "It's just seeing the missed opportunities, you know? Like, I see the notes on paper and I think to myself 'Oh, a b sharp here, a reprisal of this bit there, that would make this so much better.' And it just sucks. I know that a lot of that is likely down to executive meddling, but... Just because it's pop music doesn't mean it has to be watered down, y'know?"_

At the time, Adora had privately agreed with her summation, but she hadn't thought it would actually matter in the long run. Like her and Catra were ever gonna be _pop stars_, not with Catra's in-your-face flair for the dramatic and Adora's complicated compositions. Like she would _ever_ limit herself to the four chords of pop.

Yeah, that had been the universe's greatest joke on her.

\----------

_One week after graduating from Juilliard--top of her class and a whole year early, naturally--Adora stood in front of the ostentatious tower that housed Bright Moon Records, wondering exactly what the hell she was doing here. Knowing that just by standing in front of it she was betraying long held traditions, but too angry and full of hurt to really care._

_Aside from the government assistance provided to an art school specifically aimed at orphans, the Fright Zone had a long-standing contract with Horde Records that virtually guaranteed that graduates would at least get an evaluation to see if they could get a spot on their roster. Other students, the ones who didn't have either the talent or the drive to make a living off entertainment, typically branched out into becoming musical teachers themselves. It was rare for a student to give up the life entirely._

_Even with her distaste for everything the Fright Zone had stood for (and God, thinking that name still gave her a little burst of vindictive pleasure) Adora had to admit it was a pretty good deal. It meant that kids who had next to nothing in terms of financial stability had a chance to not only learn a trade, but get a shot at steady careers right out of the gate. The truly talented ones even had the chance of becoming full-on stars instead of just bouncing around various groups in the Horde, freelancing and providing backup as needed._

_It was a good deal, at least on the surface. At least until that day in the school library when she and Catra, young and cynical and rightfully suspicious of anything Shadow Weaver championed, had used the computers to take a closer look at the Horde._

_What they'd found was a long history: years upon years of allegations of financial abuse and contracts that essentially amounted to indentured servitude than actual jobs._

_That was when they'd starting looking for alternatives, a way to beat the system while keeping their dreams alive. A full-ride scholarship to a famous music school would be a good way to get themselves out of the Fright Zone without raising Shadow Weaver's suspicions, if they spent the years in between then and graduation learning everything they could._

_With any luck, the acclaim the school would receive for raising two such talented musicians would be enough to get Shadow Weaver to loosen her grip over them just enough to get them out. Then, by the time they graduated, they would be full adults and the old witch wouldn't have any more legal control over them._

_They'd been so close to pulling it off..._

_Then of course, the accident had happened. And Catra..._

_Now three years later with a degree in her pocket and a gaping hole in her heart, Adora stood in front of that huge "fuck you, got mine" tower, holding the letter the talent scout had given to her at graduation and asking herself what kind of sick joke her life had become._

_Eventually, she forced herself to move, sauntering into the building despite the stares she attracted from people in suits and skirts. She was definitely the most casual person here: dressed in a bright red sheepskin jacket, plain white shirt and black jeans, her boots thudding heavily on the immaculately polished marble floor and the guitar case a comfortable weight across her back--but Adora couldn't find it in herself to give a damn what they thought._

_Even if she couldn't explain to herself why she was here, she'd been invited. Everyone else would just have to deal._

_After getting her ID checked by security, the letter of recommendation photocopied and confirmed via phone call, she was promptly escorted up an elevator and to a tiny room with nothing but a pair of chairs, a table and an amp within it. There wasn't even a window to let in any light, though judging by the presence of the amp she guessed the room was probably sound-proofed to avoid disturbing any neighbors._

_So it's gonna be one of those kind of deals, Adora thought irritably as she pinched the bridge of her nose. Because why should graduating valedictorian from fucking Juilliard be the end of her having to prove herself to jackasses who thought they knew everything about music just because they had a degree in market analysis? Or an actual family._

_Or even just not growing up fully aware that you would start out with literally nothing just when the world had decided it no longer had any responsibility for you._

_She growled, plopping down in the (admittedly comfy) chair and--in a fit of childishness--propping her feet up on the table. It was petty, but she figured she'd already made an impression just by walking in the front door. A little bit of pettiness probably wouldn't hurt her any further. Probably._

_Nearly an hour passed, during which Adora slowly felt the tension drain out of her shoulders even as her mood continued to sour, eyes slipping closed as she listened to the quiet hum of the air conditioning._

_Then the door clicked open, and in walked a girl around Adora's age with pink and purple hair and the biggest "fuck you" expression Adora had ever seen that wasn't in the mirror. "So you're Mom's latest project, huh?"_

_"Well, hello to you too," Adora deadpanned._

_The girl just circled the room, ignoring the other chair in favor of looking Adora up and down. She sniffed. "So where did they scrape you up from? I swear the talent scouts will throw a letter at anyone these days, if it means poaching them away from the Horde."_

_"For the record," Adora said icily, trying to keep her temper from taking the reins and ruining any chance she had at a contract, obnoxious wannabe princesses or not. "They 'scraped me up' from graduating top of my class at Juilliard. So I don't think I have to take insults from someone who thinks they know about music just because their mother works in the business."_

_That got a definite reaction, the girl's brows knitting together and her teeth baring in a growl. "And yet you still walked in here looking like that? Didn't your parents teach you how to dress for an interview?"_

_"That'd be quite the accomplishment, considering they're both dead."_

_"Wait a second," The girl stopped dead in her tracks, taking another hard look at Adora. "Are you from Right Zone?"_

_Adora raised a single brow at her. "Got a problem with that, princess?"_

_"Oh you have got to be kidding me," She ran a hand down her face, stomping one foot like the world's tiniest dinosaur. "Look, I don't know what they taught you, but here we have actual standards. We're not like the Horde."_

_"I sure hope so," Adora drawled, even though one hand was slowly balling into a fist. Breathe in, breathe out. "Because I would actually like to get paid."_

_The girl finally looked at her again, eyes narrowing before her entire face twisted into a mean-spirited grin. "Well, if you want to be paid so bad then you need to prove that guitar case isn't just for show."_

_Adora knew she was being baited. She'd had enough people dangling metaphorical steaks over her nose throughout her life to open a damn butcher's shop. But just because she was tired of proving herself to assholes didn't mean she was going to back down from a challenge._

_Swinging her feet off the table and resting the guitar case in their place, she popped the locks and removed her pride and joy from its resting place: a Fender Mustang, the best compromise she'd been able to find between her student's budget and her respect for the history of her craft. If all went well, she one day dreamed of going all in on a Stratocaster, but until then her scrappy little Mustang gave her everything she needed._

_Plugging it in with practiced ease and powering up the amp while idly tuning the strings, she turned to her audience of one and asked, "Any requests?"_

_"We'll start off with something easy, I guess," The girl said, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms, clearly not used to being directly challenged. "Stairway to Heaven."_

_Without hesitation, Adora launched into the guitar solo of the song._

_The other girl listened for half a minute, before demanding. "Rock You Like a Hurricane."_

_Adora switched over without even bothering to stop._

_And so it went, the girl's challenges getting more and more obscure and Adora complying to her growing frustration. But Adora had picked up on her pattern: virtually all of her requests were true classic rock from the 70s and 80s, next to none of them more recent than the past thirty years. And the classics just happened to be one of Adora's specialties._

_But it was about halfway through the opener of Cactus's "One Way Or Another" (and she had to hand it to this girl; rude or not, she hadn't expected that one) that Adora decided she had had enough._

_Looking the girl dead in the eye, she declared "My turn," before launching into a blistering solo, fingers rattling across the strings like a fiddler crab suffering an epileptic fit._

_Man, she'd missed getting to cut loose like this. Going to Juilliard had been great, but sometimes she just wanted the musical equivalent of breaking windows._

_As she finished up, strings still thrumming and sweat on her brow, she was pleased to see the girl staring at her with wide eyes. "I don't know that one."_

_"You wouldn't," Adora shot back, slinging the guitar over her shoulder. "That was one of mine."_

_She'd expected a tantrum at that point. Maybe more foot stomping, or door slamming. Curses. She somehow doubted this prissy looking girl would take a swing at her, but she'd been proven wrong before and she was ready for it._

_What she hadn't expected was the slow, manic grin that spread over the other girl's face or the wicked little cackle that followed._

_"You've got backbone," She nodded approvingly. "Good. You're gonna need it to survive this industry's bullshit."_

_She extended one hand, and after a moment's hesitation, Adora took it._

_"My name's Glimmer," The other girl said, giving Adora's hand a firm squeeze. "Sorry for being such a jerk. But my mom's spent years trying to keep me from getting into the industry, so when she suddenly starts mentioning a talented new guitarist that might just work for my project... Well, you see why I would be suspicious."_

_\----------_

And that had been the start.

The thing about Glimmer was that she wasn't a straight pop musician. Not even close; beneath the cute surface everyone else took for granted she was aggressive and impulsive and thoroughly ready to throw down at any given moment. Which wasn't to say she couldn't be kind or understanding, it's just that her default mode at any given time was to spring into action.

If Glimmer had her way, the music BFS produced together would have veered harder into the lines of pop punk; the easy listening of pop combined with the unconventional rhymes and anti-establishment themes of punk. And Adora would have been right there with her, letting her compositions speak for themselves.

Even Bow, laid back as he was, had issues with the round hole BFS was being forcibly hammered into.

But there were multiple problems they had to deal with. The one Glimmer suspected was that her mother, Angella, wasn't too comfortable with the idea of her daughter acting aggressively on stage and laid down orders to make sure BFS was as safe and homogenized as a pop group could be.

Adora wasn't entirely sure on that one. While Glimmer and Angella did butt heads very frequently (with or without her father Micah playing mediator), Angella _had_ proven receptive to changes BFS had made in the past. It just wasn't something they could rely on very often; cutting directly over the heads of the managers was a surefire way to make accusations of nepotism begin circulating, and they already faced plenty of people who said that Glimmer had no real talent beyond the bandmates her mother paid for.

Which was bullshit, and Adora had recognized it as bullshit the first time she listened to Glimmer _really_ cut loose on her drums, but that didn't stop the gossip that had circulated ever since word got out that the granddaughter of Bright Moon Records' founder had started her own band.

No, Adora suspected it all came down to one simple fact: BMR was a record company, and it had investors and shareholders to bow to and try to please. Once the company had been top of the game, but the Horde coming to town and some bad calls over the years meant they just weren't the recording powerhouse they used to be.

Still, the three of them had been ready to play the long game: obey the managers and supervisors while they gathered a fanbase and then blow them all away with a sound they couldn't even _imagine_. Show them all that it was still possible to make a profit without sacrificing their passions to the altar of spreadsheets and data clusters.

But it had been seven years. And they were still getting told the chance was too great, the potential rewards not enough.

Adora was beginning to think it never would be.

\----------

Day four found Adora more or less trashed.

She smiled sardonically as she laid stretched out on her bed, legs dangling over the edge, looking up at the last picture she and Catra had taken together, back before everything went wrong. It was creased down the middle from years of travelling in her wallet, but the image printed on it was still clear as day.

Eighteen year old Catra and Adora, arms slung around each other's shoulders and grinning broadly at Lonnie (who they enlisted to hold the camera). In their free hands, each proudly displayed an acceptance letter to Juilliard. Their ticket out. Their path to something better.

_"Told you it would work out, worry wart!" Catra laughed as they broke the pose, mussing up Adora's hair while Adora shoved playfully at her shoulder._

_"Ugh, get a room you doofusses," Lonnie griped, but she was smiling as she tossed the cheap disposable camera to Adora, who caught it with a laugh as Catra zeroed in on her new target._

_"Dude, you're in our room."_

_"Then you need to get another one, because you two are blatantly unsafe for polite society."_

_"Pretty sure we got one," Adora flashed their friend a shit-eating grin as she tapped one finger against the letter she held in her hand._

_Catra, meanwhile, was flipping Lonnie off with a wide grin of her own. "Ha! Suck it, Lonnie."_

_"Laugh it up, furball. We all know who holds your leash," Lonnie shot back, but she still gave Adora a one armed hug and Catra a hard fist bump before turning to leave. _

_If anyone else made that kind of joke about Catra's heritage, she'd have threatened to claw their eyes out. But this was Lonnie, and she and Catra had been communicating primarily in harmless snark since they were all kids, though it had never stopped them from throwing down for the other in a heartbeat._

_Sometimes Adora felt a bit jealous at that; on the few times she had dared to make a similar joke, Catra hadn't even threatened to claw her. She'd just been hurt._

_Lonnie paused by the door. "Congrats again, by the way. You two earned it. Now I'm gonna get outta here before I get caught in the flash zone of your disgusting affection."_

_"Aww, feelin' jealous, Lon?"_

_"Fuck you, Catra."_

_Then it was just the two of them. Adrenaline still surging through her, Adora collapsed onto the bed with a soft squeal. "I still can't believe it. Just two more months and we'll be out of this dump forever."_

_Catra hummed thoughtfully in agreement as she pulled out her drawer in their shared desk and removed the folder she'd been religiously working in for nearly six months now. Taking a seat in the chair, she grabbed a pen from the jar and began to tap her feet in rhythm, keeping time to the music beating through her heart._

_But Adora knew Catra wasn't ignoring her; even engrossed in the notes she still angled the chair towards the bed rather than the desk. One ear swiveled in her direction, locked on even as she began to get more and more into the composing headspace._

_"So are you ever going to show me this big project you've been working on?" Adora teased, flipping over onto her side and propping her head up so she could keep watching Catra's face. She was always at her most peaceful when she was playing her guitar or composing. It made Adora want to capture that expression forever; none of the pain or fear that suffused her frame when Shadow Weaver's boots clomped up and down the halls._

_None of the strange distance that sometimes hollowed out her eyes when Adora begged Catra to just lean on her for once, even if only for a single moment of weakness. Just enough to share the burden a little._

_Not even stopping to think, she snatched the disposable camera from her pillow and brought it to her face, clicking the shutter several times--rapid fire--even as she steadied her hands and Catra turned to look at her._

_She quirked a brow. "Really?"_

_"Yup," Adora stuck her tongue out, giggling at the exaggerated eye roll Catra made even as her tail lashed excitedly behind her. Then, eyes softening, she made an admission._

_"I like seeing you happy."_

_Catra's breath caught._

_"Me too."_

_Adora knew what she meant._

The picture of the two of them had eventually migrated from Adora's wallet and into her bedside table when the pain of the memory became too much. But the other picture, the one she'd picked out as perfect among the ones ruined by motion blur and shaking hands... That stayed.

One single, perfect moment.

But just as Adora sighed and prepared to get up and go find a tub of rocky road to bury her feelings in, the door swung open with a bang and Glimmer stormed in.

"Get dressed, loser. We're going out tonight."

\----------

"So are you two ever going to explain to me what's going on?" Adora leaned up and over the center console from the backseat of Glimmer's frankly ridiculous neon purple hummer. (All Bow had ever said on the matter when Adora asked was "She likes to feel tall." The fact that Angella visibly _winced_ whenever she saw the hideous thing was likely just a bonus.)

Thankfully, Bow was the one driving tonight. Glimmer, bless her, had a tendency towards road rage that only increased with every cut-off or jaywalking pedestrian. When Adora arrived in the lobby--having showered and gotten dressed in her usual "I am the gay, it’s me" going-out outfit of jeans, a black tank, and a red and black plaid over shirt--the two of them had been knee deep in negotiations over which of them got the wheel. Glimmer's price had been unopposed ribbing rights and a bag of pork skins, for the record.

But since Bow was busy focusing on the road, Glimmer was the one who answered first. "What, can you honestly tell me you had anything planned besides lying in bed feeling sorry for yourself? Besides, you've spent most of this week ignoring our agreement, so you have no leg to stand on here."

Adora frowned at that. "I've been keeping up on the exercise."

"If that's what you wanna call your bruised shins and bleeding knuckles. But you've barely left your room, you've hardly eaten, and you haven't been out on the balcony since Sunday. Need I go on?"

"You don't have to bust her chops quite so hard, Glimmer," Bow finally cut in as he slowed down for a red light. But before Adora could even thank him, he said: "I mean, you have a point but you don't have to be mean about it."

Glimmer just shrugged, digging her hand into the bag of pork rinds. "That's what I've got you for. I'm more of the tough love kinda friend."

Giving up, Adora sat back in her seat and crossed her legs, looking out the heavily tinted windows--which were supposed to be for the group's privacy out in public, but Adora had yet to see any other driving purple people eaters on the road--onto a Bright Moon that was just beginning to wake up to the night. Thousands of people, each with their own lives and worries, all headed out on a Friday night to have a little fun before it all started up again.

Maybe Glimmer and Bow were right. Maybe she needed to take a page out of the masses' book and just let it all go tonight.

Or, that's what she _was_ thinking... Right up until the moment that they pulled into a massive (and absolutely packed) parking lot. Right outside of Bright Moon's second largest stadium.

Where there was currently a huge sign showing four people, three of whom Adora was intimately familiar with.

Adora was proud to say she kept her shit together throughout the long process of finding a parking space in this consumerist deathtrap--outwardly anyway, internally she was a mess of gay screaming--but the instant the trio had swung out of the car and the other two were in the process of stretching the kinks from their backs, she snatched them both by their shirts and drew their faces close.

"What. the. _Hell_?"

"We thought you could use a break," Bow patted her hand soothingly as he endeavored to remove Adora's fist from his crop top without mussing her bandages left from her recent attempts at an emotional exercise exorcism.

"And what better way than to check out some music?" Glimmer, on the other hand, didn't show a lick of remorse as she looked up at Adora with an expression that was downright _evil_. "Besides, I've had to endure years of you rhapsodizing about what a good composer this girl is. I wanna hear for myself what all the fuss is about."

"And you didn't even think to warn me?" Adora growled.

"So you could panic even harder? Not a chance."

And the thing is, Adora _was_ panicking. Because even though she was just starting to get used to the _idea_ of Catra (_lies_) being somewhere in her city and practically a stone's throw away, there was a big difference between theory and practice.

And right now, all of Adora's "practicing" was going into regulating her blood pressure so she didn't strangle her two best friends.

"Oh c'mon, Adora," Bow attempted to cajole, but the excited smile on his face ruined any contrition on his part. "You haven't seen Catra perform in ten years. Don't you want to see how she's improved?"

_Fucking hell._ Bow had her number. Because it was true; the last time she had seen Catra play had been at their senior recital just before the accident, and in the three days since the bomb dropped Adora hadn't had the guts to look anything up on YouTube. (She told herself it was so she wouldn't get mad or even more depressed; in all honesty it was more down to the very real fear of spontaneous combustion if she saw that damn smirk again so soon.)

And Catra... Catra had always been a performer at heart. Not necessarily an attention whore or a grating show-off, just someone who knew how to read a crowd and put on a damn good show. It wasn't just riding by on natural talent either; the three months she spent learning how to windmill in their room came to mind, or the weeks she spent learning how to backflip with her guitar.

What would she be like _now_, with seven years of experience on stage under her belt?

Just like that, the anger that had been burning a hole in Adora's belly was subsumed beneath the sheer _excitement_ she felt at the idea.

"Aww, there's our little music geek," Glimmer cooed, propping one arm on Bow's shoulder and grinning at her.

"All right, I'm in."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: psychoanalysis through music, Glimmer learns to loosen up and enjoy other genres, and Catra pours her heart out. Get ready to rock.


	4. Tell Me Your Hurt (And I Will Tell You Mine)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a few revelations are made through the power of rock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be posting the full set list at the end of the chapter, but the three songs covered in full are "What It Takes" by Adelita's Way, "RISE" by I Prevail, and finally "The Killing Kind" by Marianas Trench. I highly encourage listening along as you read to assist with the visualization of what I was going for. :) 
> 
> But full author disclosure: if you choose to only listen to one of these songs, make it "The Killing Kind" for three reasons: 1) it's the song that inspired this entire au, 2) it is just as extreme and over-the-top and as amazingly intense as I have tried _so hard_ to convey here, and 3) a huge chunk of what I've written about both Adora and Catra's talents as musicians here stems from MT front-man and lead singer Josh Ramsay, who grew up as a prodigy in a very musical family, and might even be _more_ insane in real life than Adora and Catra are here: the dude is a singer, songwriter, producer, recording engineer, plays THIRTEEN different instruments including FLUGELHORN of all things, and he's only in his _thirties_. Just... trust me on this. Give it a listen and you'll see what I mean.
> 
> Quick note on the formatting: I try to break up the lyric blocks by mixing in description and insights into the characters throughout. Normally sung lines are in italics and sung by Catra, those that are in bold indicate that Lonnie is providing death growls (or in like two cases, Catra is screaming her head off.)
> 
> Please enjoy, and be sure to let me know what you think.

Glimmer and Bow had planned this excursion well; the time the trio had spent in the parking lot was when the lesser known bands that had toured with No Plan B were finishing up their own performances, so after Glimmer showed the ticket takers some documents from her pack ("Glimmer, how did you get tickets to a sold-out show?" "You forget I'm the heir apparent to Bright Moon Records? I have _ways_, Adora.") they entered the packed stadium and began making their way down into the very large, very excited crowd, eventually securing a spot that was close enough for them to be able to see the band clearly but not pressed right up against the stage.

Adora was grateful for that; she wasn't quite ready to be that close to Catra yet--and if the little ray of hope that had been nestling in the back of her heart since Catra's admission was correct... Well, she didn't want to throw her off her game. Not when tonight was her big moment of triumph.

The stadium was standing room only (barring a seating area for the physically handicapped) and all around them was the noise of excited chatters and the thrill of anticipation as the roadies came out to set up for the main event. It was a Proscenium stage; the audience facing it on three sides and a large arc made of steel girders overhead supporting the lighting and some of the smaller speakers. The “backstage,” as it were, was really just a large backdrop set farther back from the arc proper to give the illusion of greater depth to the space, while the true behind-the-scenes work was conducted in the small building sunk into the ground, of which the stage itself was the roof.

To Adora's surprise (and delight) she spotted Kyle among the group, looking relaxed and totally in his element as he set up the on-stage amps and did sound checks on most of the instruments--though true to her words in the interview, Catra's guitar was absent, likely being given its own check backstage by its owner.

Though later--when she actually had time to think about it--she wasn't really all _that_ surprised. Kyle and Rogelio had always been joined at the hip, even before they started dating, and while Kyle had been ambivalent about making a career for himself in creative music or teaching it _did_ make sense that he'd be here. And it was good to see that he was doing better from the anxious wreck he'd been in the Fright Zone.

You could take the kid out of the Fright Zone, but you couldn’t take the music from the kid.

The next half hour passed in a blur of excitement and nervous tension for Adora, unable to keep herself from grinning or tapping her feet to free up the anxious little bursts of energy shooting through her system. While the feeling of being up on stage was indescribable, it had been so long since she had allowed herself to just be a spectator. She'd forgotten how good it felt to be surrounded by people who were all just as hyped and excited as her.

Even Glimmer, who had spent most of the time teasing her/talking smack about how "C'mon, I know you wanna see your woman-crush, but it's _just_ a hard rock concert," was getting into the energy of things by the time the crowd let out a _roar_.

Rising up from the small staircase on the far right side of the stage—the one leading down to the door to the underground--each of the members of No Plan B exited in an orderly line, chatting idly or giving each other high fives as they split off to go to their separate instruments. Lonnie on keyboards, a second mic hooked up in front of her (which was a pleasant surprise; she'd never been one for singing back at Right Zone); Rogelio on bass, strumming experimentally before grinning and flashing a thumbs up back towards the stairs where Adora assumed Kyle was watching; Scorpia--a giant of a woman with amazing arms bared by a sleeveless leather jacket--taking a seat next to her drums and slipping on a pair of drum sticks that had been modified to go over her claws instead of being held in them, thus avoiding the very real danger of snapping them in half mid-performance.

And then Catra, sauntering in with her guitar held cockily across her shoulders, wearing what Adora could only describe as a "_Fuck me_" suit of black and red dress shirt with the tie undone, the sleeves rolled up, the pants strategically ripped across the knees (and Adora's heartbeat picked up for a different reason at that, because she recognized the alterations Catra had made for agility) and goddamn _fingerless gloves_.

But it was the look on Catra's face as she strolled up the mic and began plugging in her guitar that really took Adora's breath away, a look of casual confidence and pride, a look that said, "I was born for this."

When this was all said and done, Adora was going to _kiss_ Bow and Glimmer for dragging her here.

"Well," Catra chuckled into the mic once the rumbling died down. "This is usually the part where I'd say something like 'This is the biggest crowd we've ever had' but from the noise you guys are making, I think you already know that. So let's cut to the chase, shall we?"

Another roar from the crowd.

"Now a lot of you here already know who we are," Catra continued with a riff for emphasis. "But for those of you who just came to see what all the fuss is about... We are No Plan B. So we're gonna start things off with a bang with our own little mission statement. You ready for this, Bright Moon? Because here's 'What It Takes'!"

With that, the floodlights dimmed, four spotlights of red and blue dancing across the stage before settling on each of the band members as a low hum filled the air. Catra began playing the instant the light settled on her, Rogelio following in a few moments after, before finally culminating in Scorpia hammering on the drums and the high pitched whine of Lonnie's keyboard before the sound blended together and the song started for _real_.

Catra brought her mouth to the microphone, and... Not quite rapped, but the tone was more conversational than outright singing.

_My mind is racing_   
_Heart is pacing_   
_Everything I want, I taste it,_   
_I embrace it!_   
_Gotta have the patience, dedication_   
_Never leave a moment wasted,_   
_Chasin' greatness!_

Then, as the sound kicked up and she began to tap her bare foot to the rhythm of the drums, she inched closer to actually going full out while still maintaining a bit of that conversational tone.

_I think it's kinda funny that they slept on me_   
_Here's a couple things you should know about me:_   
_No Plan B, just a one-way ticket_   
_This is what it takes:_   
_That's the difference!_

And she _sang_.

_I've been waiting for this all my life,_   
_It's my time_   
_I never hesitate, I dig down_   
_Stand my ground_   
_Look at all the valleys that I've made it through!_

_(_A cheer from the crowd as Catra threw one arm out._)_

_You're looking at somebody with too much to lose!_   
_The sacrifice is made, every day is the price I pay_   
_This is what it takes!_

"_Eyes on the prize, yeah, this is what it takes_," Lonnie briefly took over with Catra alternated the last line between each of hers. "_Eyes on the prize, when it's make or break/Eyes on the prize, yeah this is what it takes, this is what it takes_."

A brief set of notes from the keyboard, and Catra seamlessly switched back into singing, not even bothering with the casual build-up of the first two stanzas now that she had the crowd right where she wanted them.

_The way I play, it's calculated_   
_Gonna take the game and change it,_   
_Fuck the haters!_   
_Turn the blood 'n sweat 'n tears to gold_   
_When you break the mold and get results_   
_HERE WE GO!_

_I've been waiting for this all my life,_   
_It's my time_   
_I never hesitate, I dig down_   
_Stand my ground_   
_Look at all the valleys that I've made it through! _   
_You're looking at somebody with too much to lose!_   
_The sacrifice is made, every day is the price I pay_   
_This is what it takes!_

Just like before, she and Lonnie began a call and response (though this time it was Lonnie doing the responding, instead of Catra.)

_Eyes on the prize, yeah this is what it takes_   
_ (This is what it takes!)_   
_ Eyes on the prize when it's make or break_   
_ (This is what it takes!)_   
_ Eyes on the prize yeah, this is what it takes_   
_ This is what it takes_

Catra took over the last two lines instead of alternating, which was a bit of a surprise until Lonnie let out an absolutely _ferocious_ metal scream of "**THIS IS WHAT IT TAKES**!"

The vocals halted as Catra and Rogelio simultaneously started in on their guitars, Scorpia pounding out a fierce drum solo in the background, and the crowd went wild as Catra snatched the mic from its stand and pocketed it before executing a couple of _backflips_ back and forth across stage without ceasing to play for even a moment.

"_Eyes on the prize, yeah this is what it takes/Eyes on the prize when it's make or break_," Catra took over again as she landed fully once more, while Lonnie quickly took advantage of the lull in the action to take a swig from a water bottle. To Adora's absolute astonishment, while the section was clearly designed to be lighter on the guitar playing to put emphasis on the vocal bridge, Catra was actually using her _tail_ to strum while her right hand handled the frets. The microphone was clenched tight in her maimed hand as she sauntered back to the stand and replaced it. _What the hell kind of crazy stunt is she gonna pull out next?!_ "_Eyes on the prize, yeah, this is what it takes/This is what it takes... What's it gonna be_?"

_I've been waiting for this all my life,_   
_It's my time_   
_I never hesitate, I dig down_

And here, Catra almost seemed to laugh proudly as she altered the previously sung line into a bold declaration.

_Stand my ground!_   
_Look at all the valleys that I've made it through!_   
_You're looking at somebody with too much to lose!_   
_The sacrifice is made, every day is the price I pay_   
_This is what it takes!_

She and Lonnie traded off lyrics one final time, capping it off with the one last reprise of the keyboard notes and another scream of "**THIS IS WHAT IT TAKES**!!!" before fading out to the echo.

The crowd went absolutely _nuts_ (and the three members of BFS were carried along with the fever pitch, hands in the air and cheering just as hard) as the band paused for just a moment to partially drain their water bottles and wipe the sweat from their brows before Catra took over the mic again.

"So if any of you had any doubts as to what we're about, that should have cleared things up. Now, for those of you who have been to one of these shows before, you know exactly what time it is. For all you new fans out there," And here, she _winked_, completely confident in that declaration. "You'll catch on in a sec. Because it's time... To RISE."

And there was a sudden spike in tension that spread through most of crowd, as Adora clued in on the classic signs of an audience participation song and felt her own grin widen in response.

This time, there was no instrumental prelude or warm-up; Catra simply launched straight into the lyrics, spending half a line in otherwise silence before Rogelio began a droning wail on his bass, right until she finally joined him at the tail end of the stanza.

_You gotta fight through the pain_   
_To get to the top_   
_You gotta push through it all_   
_If it's what you want_   
_Screamin' "This is a call to the dreamers!"_   
_Dig a little deeper, make 'em believers!_

The silence broken, the next few seconds were a fierce assault of sound, with Rogelio and Scorpia in particular contributing hard while Catra briefly freed her hands from her guitar and grabbed the microphone in her right, half of the crowd simultaneously tensing up as well.

"_R-I-S-E_!" Catra screamed, punctuating each letter by throwing her left fist into the air, while the crowd members who had been here before did the same and roared along. Switching tack, she snarled, "_Let's light a match that ignites the streets!/Screaming!/R-I-O-T! (_same result_) But now it's time to give 'em something to say!_"

"**_So dig a little bit, never quit, keep on that hustle_!**" Lonnie cut it with full on death growl vocals now that she was properly warmed up. "**_Fuck it up and take another hit, hold on through the struggle_!**/**_Screaming-!_**"

"_R-I-S-E!_" Catra snatched the metaphorical baton the band leader tossed her, switching back to cleaner vocals in prep for the chorus. "_Let's light a match and ignite the streets_!"

** _Let's light 'em up, light 'em up!_ **

_You gotta fight through the pain_   
_To get to the top_   
_You gotta push through it all_   
_If it's what you want_   
_Screamin' "This is a call to the dreamers!"_   
_Dig a little deeper, make 'em believe-_

And here there was just a split second pause as she subverted the initial setup, before launching immediately into a second run-through, even faster.

_You gotta fight through the pain_   
_To get to the top_   
_You gotta push through it all_   
_If it's what you want_   
_Screamin' "This is a call to the dreamers!"_   
_Dig a little deeper, make 'em believers!_

And here, as if to make up for the brief respite she'd been given while leading the crowd, Catra launched into an even more ferocious guitar solo as she echoed the last line again. The rest of the band joined in as well with their instruments, before letting it all but die down so Lonnie could take over, voice beginning normal before escalating into that howl Adora still couldn't get over.

_The road is long, but it's the one to take_   
_You gotta put in the work, **it's time to make or break!!!**_

(Catra and Rogelio stood back to back, leaning against one another as they both launched into heavily distorted shredding before Lonnie screamed the lines again.)

** _The road is long, but it's the one to take_ **   
** _You gotta put in the work, it's time to make! Or... BREAK!!!!_ **

The sound stopped for just a heartbeat, Adora's ears ringing with the absence before Catra pitched herself right back into the chorus.

_You gotta fight through the pain_   
_To get to the top_   
_You gotta push through it all_   
_If it's what you want_   
_Screamin' "This is a call to the dreamers!"_   
_Dig a little deeper, make 'em believe-_

_You gotta fight through the pain_   
_To get to the top_   
_You gotta push through it all_   
_If it's what you want_   
_Screamin' "This is a call to the dreamers!"_   
_Dig a little deeper, make 'em believers!_

"_Make! Them! Believe!_" The crowd shouted back with a punctuation of fists while Lonnie screamed, "**_Write down your name in history! You've gotta_-!**"

_Make! Them! Believe!_   
** _One day they'll remember me!_ **   
** _You gotta stand up tall, give 'em something to say_ **   
** _With your back against the wall, be somebody to hate!_ **   
_Make! Them! Believe!_   
** _Write down your name in history!!_ **

"_You gotta fight through the pain/To get to the top_," Catra took over once more, keeping all eyes on her as Lonnie quickly drained the rest of her water bottle with a grimace before tossing it aside. "_You gotta push through it all/If it's what you want..._"

And this time, the entire band broke in _hard_.

_This is a call to the dreamers!_   
_Dig a little deeper, make 'em believe_   
_You gotta fight through the pain_   
_To get to the top_   
_You gotta push through it all_   
_If it’s what you want_   
_Screaming this is a call to the dreamers_   
_Dig a little deeper, make ‘em believers_

The entire crowd joined in one last time, previous viewers even nudging the newbies in the crowd to prepare them, and Adora threw her fist up in time with a thousand others.

_Make! Them! Believe!_   
_Dig a little deeper, make 'em believers_   
_This is a call to the dreamers_   
_Dig a little deeper, make 'em believers!_

And with a thunder of drums, it was over.

Adora stood there, almost stunned in a sea of screaming voices as the adrenaline ceased coursing through her veins. Glancing over at Glimmer and Bow, she saw that they were in much the same state, having been caught up in the energy of the crowd and only now slipping back into themselves. She gratefully accepted one of the bottles of water Bow passed out from his messenger bag (reusable, natch, or Perfuma would never let him hear the end of it.)

"Ok," Glimmer said, still a little breathless even after taking a long pull from the bottle and cuffing the excess from her mouth. "I think I might get it now."

And then she grinned evilly, before Adora could even make a smug jab at her. "Why you like the music, I mean. I already _know_ why you're into her."

She jabbed a thumb up at Catra, who just so happened to have taken this exact moment to thumb open the top button of her dress shirt and _pour_ the remainder of her water bottle over her head.

_This is it._ Adora thought even as her face caught fire. _This is when I die._

\----------

Fortunately, the band pulled it back for the next few tracks (likely just to keep the more excitable members of the audience from having heart attacks) but the sense of energy and focus being brought to bear never wavered, even as they pulled back and forth between slower but still intense songs and absolute _riots_ of concentrated noise.

Slowly, Adora began to pick out the pattern in the songs. The high-tempo songs that heavily involved the entire band tended to be themed around rebellion and solidarity, fist-pumping "us against the world" kind of songs, songs that also leaned heavily on physical stunts by Catra that--ironically--highlighted the other member's contributions by forcibly drawing the audience's eyes toward them.

"_They can't sell us on convenience and conformity/Those aren't the properties of people that we want to be/Rise up if you agree/And let your freak flags fly/We're all messed up inside/And forced to act like everything's alright/Wave those freak flags high/Rejected 'til we die/To hell with tomorrow/Just let your freak flags fly tonight._"

"_We are the savages, we are the savages/Hey! Hey! Hey!/This is our battle call/(Mess with the horns and you get the devil)/Hey! Hey! Hey!/You're not invincible/(Mess with the horns and you get the devil!)_"

"_Embraced by the darkness, I'm losing the light/Encircled by demons, I fight/What have I become, now that I've betrayed/Everyone I've ever loved, I pushed them all away/And I have been a slave to the Judas in my mind/Is there something left for me to save/In the wreckage of my life?/My life!_"

"_So you can throw me to the wolves!!!/Tomorrow I will come back, leader of the whole pack/Beat me black and blue!/Every wound will shape me, every scar will build my throne!_"

(And admittedly, Adora wished she'd had a camera to record the look of absolute _disbelief_ on Glimmer's face when, in the briefest lull in the auditory assault that was "SAVAGES" Catra actually back flipped _onto_ Scorpia's shoulders and proceeded to leap onto the lighting arc overhead before launching into a power solo.

"Who even _does_ that?!" Glimmer screeched while pulling at her own hair. It had only gotten worse when--partway through the next song--Rogelio took advantage of a lull in the music to sling his own guitar across his back and scuttle up the support beams to join Catra, the two of them going back to back once more with Catra in front facing the crowd and Rogelio in profile over her left shoulder. And then, just to add insult to injury, the two managed to _switch places_ without even separating, perfectly whirling in a half circle across the thin metal bars of the lighting truss so Rogelio could face the crowd just in time for a solo of his own.

Ok, Adora could admit that even with long experience with Catra's insane ideas for stage stunts, _that_ had made her jaw drop too.

It was obviously a practiced and heavily coordinated move, one that had probably taken months of practice, but the execution came off so naturally that the crowd ate it up.

It was_ so_ Catra.)

But despite the amazing spectacles of those songs, it was the slower songs that began to draw Adora's attention.

In contrast to the in-your-face nature of the other half of the set list, they were contemplative. Even moody. But more importantly, they tended to be way less _showy_. Even Catra's guitar work tamped down in those songs, putting more focus on her voice and the lyrics pouring forth.

"_Do we make sense? I think we do/In spite of everything that we've been through/When you say black and I say white/It's not about who's wrong, as long as it feels right/But don't think those stars won't align...!_"

"_And I will find the enemy within/'Cuz I can feel it crawl beneath my skin/Dear agony, just let go of me/Suffer slowly/Is this the way it's gotta be?/Don't bury me, faceless enemy/I'm so sorry.../Is this the way it's gotta be?/Dear agony..._"

"_I will never know what happens next/Even when my heart beats out my chest/Through all of the chaos, I'll find a way out/I know home is where you make it..._"

"_I'm coming home, I've been gone for far too long,/Do you remember me at all?/I'm leaving, have I fucked things up again?/I'm dreaming, too much time without you spent/And it hurts/Wounds so sore/Now I'm torn/Now I'm torn/I've been far away/When I see your face my hearts burst into fire/Hearts burst into fire._"

"_I don't know what isn't real, but it's easy/To beat me/(Suck it in)/Life is sink or swim/Love is blinding, no surviving/I don't know what I want to be yet/But I can show that I need to see this/No time for lies and empty fights/I'm on your side/(Can we live a life of peace and happiness?)/I don't think so…/(No denying I am scared to lose the things I love)/I'm in control!_"

Catra had said that her personal songs stemmed from her night terrors…

_Catra, eight years old and hidden under Adora's blanket, still seeking protection even while her chubby hands clawed desperately at her own eyes. Even as Adora grabbed her and forced her hands away (because Catra never turned her claws on her) she just whimpered, "Can't be like that, 'dora. Can't be like that other me."_

But no matter how much Adora gently poked and not-so-gently prodded her in the daylight hours, Catra refused to elaborate any further than that. So all Adora knew was what little bits slipped out over the years when Catra truly panicked; a city of metal choked with smoke, shadowy hands rising up from the floor, a sword, a lever, a sky bleeding into unnatural pink as everything crumbled into white.

She still wasn't entirely sure what had been happening the night when they were seventeen and Catra came awake screaming and clawing frantically at her right arm--babbling that she needed to "Get the black off,"--other than the fact that it was _fucking_ terrifying. The only saving grace of that situation was when she managed to pin Catra down after her panicked brain decided to move on to clawing at her face, but _before_ she could put that thought into action.

Most nights didn't trigger such violent reactions, even if she could count on one hand the times that more than a few days passed without at least one episode, but Catra still refused to talk about the dreams. If Adora's hunch was right... Well, the picture that was starting to emerge wasn't one she was okay with.

\------------

Finally, the night was coming to an end and a good chunk of the audience was flat-out exhausted from the aftermath of one too many adrenaline rushes. Even Adora, who was used to it, was starting to feel pretty winded and Glimmer had been leaning on Bow for a while now.

"All right," Catra said, tapping against the side of the microphone and still managing to draw a brief surge of excitement from the crowd. "You guys have been a _fantastic_ audience tonight. And I get that most of you are pretty tired and wanna go home. But if you can hang on for just one more song, we've put together a special little something to send you all on your way."

That got everyone's attention, ears pricking up with interest (metaphorically for the humans, literally for any hybrids sprinkled throughout the crowd.)

Looking back over her shoulder, Catra jerked a thumb at Lonnie, who grinned and grabbed her own mic as the spotlight focused more heavily on her.

"Since Bright Moon is where we started this tour and you guys have been among our most dedicated fans-" _Laying it on a little thick there, Lon_. "We asked ourselves in the lead up to this final show what we could do to show our appreciation to you guys."

And here, she smirked proudly. "As many of you know, we're taking a two month break after tonight to rest up from the tour, then we'll be back in the studio to work on our third album. But since you guys are the ones who made it happen, we figured it was only fair if we ended this tour with a bang and gave you guys a little preview of what No Plan B has in store for the future."

Once that implication sunk in... Well, Adora wouldn't have said it was the loudest cheer of the night (the lighting truss dance still handily took that prize) but it was _definitely_ in the top three.

"And since our lead guitarist over there so thoroughly delivered, we're gonna leave you guys with a song we're hoping will be on that album!"

And just like that, the lighting shuffle was relegated to second best.

"Hey, now," Catra said into her own mic, shooting a look of exasperation back at her band leader. "While I appreciate the shout out, these three were the ones who pulled out all the stops and learned this entire thing in a week and a half. I think that deserves an ovation by itself, right?"

They got it, each of the other three band members offering two fingered salutes and smiles to their audience--even Scorpia, who was rendered incapable of looking as cool and collected as Rogelio and Lonnie, what with the pleased blush lighting up against her pale hair and complexion.

Clearly satisfied at having made her point, Catra turned back to the crowd and ran a claw through her hair as she brought her hands to her guitar again. In the background, Adora just barely caught sight of Lonnie tossing something at Scorpia, which she affixed to one of the spines on her face.

"Keep in mind, this isn't going to be quite as polished as it will be on official release. But we promised you guys a good send-off, so we'll deliver.

"This one's called 'The Killing Kind'."

\----------

The spotlights went out one by one, until only the one surrounding Catra (once red but now shifting into blue) was active. She smiled a little, eyes downturned as she began plucking lightly at the higher pitched strings of her guitar. When she leaned in, her voice was husky and low.

_I roam these halls, search the night_   
_In hopes that I may see_   
_A remnant trace, a glimpse of you_   
_I stare into the deep_   
_Singing, "I know, I know, I know, I know, I know_   
_I know my love can be..."_   
_The deep stares back, speaks to me,_   
_I know my love can be_   
_The killing kind._

A chime like a bell sounded, and Rogelio was illuminated behind Catra, picking up the guitar as Catra leaned in and sang faster, higher.

_What if I was wrong by never moving on?_   
_Didn't realize who's gone_   
_The ghost in me was true but_   
_You were haunted too, just_   
_Didn't see it all along_   
_Nevermore to leave here!_   
_Nevermore to leave here!_   
_You should never be here!_   
_I know, I know, I know, I know, I know,_   
_I know my love can be_   
_The killing kind._

Rather the continuing the trend and shining a light on Lonnie or Scorpia, their voices began to vocalise out of the darkness like calls from the past, and the hair along Adora's arms prickled.

“_Here and now/If this is it_/_Can't get out from under it,” _Catra sang to the harsh punctuation of the drums before speeding back up._ “Nevermore to leave here/Nevermore to leave here_/_My love is the killing kind!_

_“There and then/I should have known/It was me, all along/Nevermore to leave here/Nevermore to leave here/My love is the killing kind!/My love is the killing kind/Nevermore to leave here, nevermore to leave here!”_

_Try and try to let you go_   
_And I'll just disappear_   
_Go down below where children go_   
_And we all float down here_   
_Singing, “I know, I know, I know, I know, I know,_   
_I know my love can be…”_   
_It gazes back, sings to me_   
_I know my love can be_   
_The killing kind_

The slow crescendo of sound from the other players finally reached the point where it was competing with Catra's ever increasing speed and forcefulness, until she was almost spitting the words into the microphone.

_What if I was wrong by never moving on? I-_   
_Didn't realize who's gone_   
_The ghost in me was true but_   
_You've been haunted too, just_   
_Didn't see it all along_   
_Nevermore to leave here!_   
_Nevermore to leave here!_   
_You should never be here_   
_I know, I know, I know, I know, I know,_   
_I know my love can be_   
_The killing kind!_

With a crash like thunder that made half the arena jump, Scorpia lit up in the darkness, punctuating every incoming line with an emphatic pounding on her drums.

“_Here and now/If this is it_/_Can't get out from under it/Nevermore to leave here/Nevermore to leave here_/_My love is the killing kind!_/_There and then/I should have known!/It was me, all along/Nevermore to leave here/Nevermore to leave here/My love is the killing kind!_

And then it was like all the restraints had been cast off as each band member chipped in at once on the crescendo, Scorpia and Lonnie (and Adora recognized now that the device Lonnie tossed her had been a small clip on mic; not sufficient enough for a full set of vocalizations, but good enough for background sonorizing) kept up the haunting wails at the edge of the darkness.

_Oh, my love is the killing kind_   
_Never more to leave here!_   
_Never more to leave here..._

All sound stopped for a moment except for Rogelio and Catra both pounding on their guitars, one second on and one second off in sets of four, and Adora's pulse jumped to her throat as she sensed the buildup to something-

And then Catra _screamed_. Screamed long and hard at the heavens as Scorpia's drums came crashing back in, followed by another scream as the guitars shrieked in chorus with her.

Adora had felt sorrow conveyed through vocals before. But this was the first time she'd heard it the other way around; a wordless pain being transformed into pure melody. And that _sound_ nearly tore the air from her lungs.

As she finished, Catra rocked back onto her heels, wiping the sweat from across her eyes and sang softly once again (almost as though she hadn't just been screaming like she’d been stabbed through the _heart_):

_Stirs of whispers trail and linger_   
_You still haunt the corner of my heart_   
_Stirs of whispers trail and linger_   
_You still haunt the corners of my heart_

Smiling almost sarcastically to herself, she changed tempo and pitch, tapping out a rhythm as she began singing almost conversationally once again in a callback to the opener. “_Sing it for me, baby/Singing me to sleep/Singing, "Don't love the bottle, but the bottle loves me."/One for the memory,/Two for the pain/Singing, "Don't love the bottle with the deeper disdain._"”

Lonnie joined in on the second pass of the stanza as the band's instruments began their upward drive once more, finally hitting the peak with all three voices joining together even as they were swept along in the rush anew. It was only at the fourth pass (and Catra practically shouting again at this point) that the switch happened. "_Sing it for me, baby/Singin' me to sleep/Singin' "Don't love the bottle, but the bottle loves me/One for the memory-/I HEAR THE MELODY~_"

The music dimmed down to practically nothing, undercut by what sounded suspiciously like...

"Is that a fucking Theremin?!" Glimmer hissed, before Bow elbowed her to be quiet.

_I think of you_   
_I dream of you_   
_Ever more (Ever more)_   
_(Ever more…)_

"_Hey, do you hear me?/Do you hear me now?/On a midnight dreary..._" Catra sang softly as Lonnie switched her keyboard into piano mode and joined in along with Scorpia. "_Stay.../Stay near me.../Stay near me now..._"

Another wail of guitars as Catra let out another scream, thankfully less intense then before.

_Oh, yeah! (Do you hear me?)_   
_Don't you hear me? Do you hear me now?!_

The other band members dropped away as Catra grabbed the mic in both and stared down the crowd like she was daring them to interrupt her. "_If madness overtakes us both/Then nobody would be alone/The ghost of us can linger here/Forever not to disappear.../Stay.../Stay near.../Oh stay…!/We could be together here/Forever we're-!/Together bound in madness..._"

There was another instrumental climb, but this time it carried with an undercurrent of finality as Catra wordlessly vocalized along before segueing into another cry.

"_Here and now/If this is it/Why don't we just **SAVOR IT??!!**_"

The drums pounded three more times.

"_Just hush_," Catra almost whispered. "_My adored one…_”

She held the final words almost unbearably long as the music reached its final crescendo, the other two echoing those final three words before Catra finally screaming out one last time. “_STAY!!_"

And the music finally faded.

There was a moment of stunned silence as the audience struggled to process that--after each high and low and turnaround in the past seven minutes--the performance _had_ actually ended this time.

Then the entire stadium erupted into cheers as all four members of No Plan B assembled at the front of the stage to give a four-man bow--arms clasped around each other's shoulders--before hustling off-stage.

In the aftermath, as the crowds around them began to move to the exits and Adora recovered from her shellshock, she finally looked over to see Glimmer and Bow staring at her. And she wasn't exactly shocked by that--as professional musicians themselves, they were better equipped than virtually anyone else here to understand that the composition they had listened to was _fucking insane_.

"Adora?" Glimmer asked, sounding a little dazed herself.

"Yeah, Glim?"

"How are you the normal one?"

\-----------

After that, Adora had assumed they would be heading home after scarfing down some granola bars and polishing off their water (and she would sacrifice a damn cat to whatever deity covered Friday night traffic in Bright Moon if they got there before passing out.) And frankly, she had a lot to think about. Especially in regards to those last four words.

“_My adored one… Stay._”

But just as she dusted crumbs off her jeans and moved to stand up and head to the exit, two sets of hands grabbed the back of her flannel.

Turning back around, she was met by Glimmer and Bow both smiling (him with just a touch of smugness, her with the manic intensity of a Pitbull crossed with a chainsaw.)

"Umm..." Adora floundered on what to say, danger sense skyrocketing as those grins widened. "I mean, thanks for taking me to the show, guys. It's was really incredible, but it's over now. Shouldn't we be headed back?"

She jerked a thumb futilely over her shoulder in the direction of the exits as Glimmer and Bow both exchanged a Look.

"Little slow on the uptake, huh? Can't say I blame you. I'm not even into composing like you are, but that last song... Oof."

“Not to mention, those lyrics? Man, how un-subtle can you get?”

While a huge chunk of Adora agreed with Bow's assessment (and desperately tried to ignore Glimmer’s until she could _get back home and unpack this emotional baggage, damn it!_), the part of her that had grown accustomed to Shenanigans ™ happening around them honed in on the phrase "slow on the uptake." "What uptake?"

Glimmer replied with the same look she got when her mom let her sit in on contract negotiations with "problem talent" (i.e. the same one she got while she watched Angella _ruin someone's life_.) "Did you seriously think we dragged you all the way out here just to see the show?"

Adora glanced back and forth between them as comprehension slowly sank in. “Yes…?”

“Oh, you sweet summer child,” Glimmer snickered as she leaned casually against Bow’s shoulder. “Trust me, Adora: I wouldn’t have called in that many favors just to get us all into a concert, no matter how good the music is. No, we’re here on Official Business.”

“Official bus-,” Adora mouthed, before realization smacked her dead in the face with all the subtlety of a half-filleted trout. “You didn’t-!”

“We totally did!” Bow cut in with a small cheer. “And we got Mrs. Angella’s approval and everything! So come on, you two! The Best Friend Squad is on a PR mission to congratulate Bright Moon’s latest stars on their first successful headliner tour!”

“That’s _not_ what it stands for.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The full set list in order is as follows (* indicates one of the songs Catra composed by herself in-universe; you'll notice that while Adora was pretty good at picking out most of them, she got it wrong on a few.)
> 
> "What It Takes," by Adelita's Way  
"RISE," by I Prevail  
"Freak Flag" and "SAVAGES" by ICE NINE KILLS  
"Judas" by Fozzy*  
"Throne" by Bring Me the Horizon  
"Under Your Scars" by Godsmack*  
"Dear Agony" by Breaking Benjamin*  
"Chaos" by I Prevail  
"Hearts Burst Into Fire" by Bullet For My Valentine*  
"You Fight Me" by Breaking Benjamin*  
"The Killing Kind" by Marianas Trench*
> 
> Really quickly, I wanna note that I only changed one lyric: and that was replacing the end cry of "Eleanora" with "My adored one" instead. Originally I was gonna justify it by making it an in-joke between Adora and Catra based on a teenage fascination with Poe (and the album the song originates from is dotted with Poe references) but that seemed like too much of a stretch. And just calling out Adora's name at the end of a song is too bold even for Catra at this point, even if the result is really obvious to anyone who actually knows them. :)
> 
> Aside from the obvious logistics, the songs that got only a short excerpt were those that didn't fully fit Catra to a T, but still stood out well enough to warrant inclusion (except "You Fight Me", that's just Catra to her core.) I was hesitant to include "Judas" in the list because I understand the name/term carries a lot of loaded religious context, but the chorus really captured that give and take of struggling with the urge to bite the hands that reach out to you.
> 
> Like I said, this chapter was really complicated to write, and I tried to strike an even balance between "lyrics as characterization/insight" and letting the characters' own performances inform the audience. I'm not even joking when I say that I even tried to get the _punctuation_ to help out. I really wanna know what you guys think and if you have any suggestions to make it better. I'm going to try to get the final chapter of this particular fic out tomorrow in time for Catra's bday, but I also seem to be developing a sinus infection, so if I don't enjoy your day for me anyway. ;)
> 
> Next time: Adora gets mercilessly dragged by those around her, Glimmer almost starts a fight, new friendships are forged, and a reunion ten years coming.


	5. You Do Not Have To Walk On Your Knees (Through The Desert, Repenting)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A reunion, ten years overdue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to bear witness to the birthday of one Catra "trash cat goblin child" of (presumably) Half Moon. Thus we bestow upon her the gift she deserves: emotional catharsis. And a very long hug.
> 
> Look, my guys, I literally have no clue how this chapter happened beyond possible possession by some kind of writing spirit. It just... came off better than I ever could have hoped and even though it jumped into stuff I was planning to save for later entries I can't bring myself to care. If you find any typos, please let me know: like the entire series, this was written on my phone before being emailed to myself.
> 
> I'm gonna try (keyword: try) to take a brief hiatus at least until I can get over this sinus infection with it's swollen lymph nodes and vertigo and overall bullshit, but I will be back to continue the series very soon. So enjoy the last chapter of what has basically become the first arc of Rhythm and Blues. Also... pay attention to the poems. Just sayin'.

What if I don't want the monster  
to stop being a monster?

What if that's the only anchor I have left?  
What if my sanity depends on being able to point  
at the bad thing and say, _That is the bad thing._

Haven't I already lost enough time  
losing track of who the enemy is?  
I've spent half of my life not knowing the difference

between killing myself and fighting back.

-Andrea Gibson

Okay. So Adora totally had this under control.*

(*That was a lie. Adora had never been less in control in her entire life.)

Honestly, it wasn't totally _unheard_ of for these kinds of things to happen. Hell, Adora still remembered when--fresh off their second album tour--BFS had returned to Bright Moon to find nearly everyone they had ever collaborated with gathered in the parking lot of their complex to throw an impromptu party (and she still wasn't entirely sure how Mermista and Sea Hawk had managed to convince the security team to let them get away with that. Sure, Mermista had a glare that could cut glass and wasn't one to take 'No' for an answer, but even that kind of power had its limits. Plus the resulting noise complaints--and the fire--pretty much meant that any other surprise parties would have to take place inside the apartments, no exceptions.)  
  
But this was different for a lot of reasons. One, most congratulatory drop-ins were kept within the same record company, and while No Plan B wasn't with the Horde they still weren't with BMR either. Second, while cross-genre friendships were totally a thing, crashing another band's concert to give a show of support was usually kept within the same musical spheres simply to keep the presses from having a fit and starting up another genre war over whose sound was better. (_Uncultured heathens._)  
  
And third--and most critical in Adora's mind--this was _Catra_ she was dropping in on, and that alone had her stomach churning like it had been replaced with pop rocks in a centrifuge.  
  
What would she say when she saw Catra again, in person, none of the distance of a TV screen or the anonymity of the crowd? Hell, what _could_ she say?  
  
_Oh God, even my usual fallback of 'talk music at them' won't work, because if we start talking about that performance I'm gonna be halfway undressed before someone escorts me off the premises. Jesus Christ, Adora, get a grip! Drink some water! _  
  
_Yeah, like anything's gonna cure that thirst._  
  
Thankfully, those thoughts ground to a halt as they moved backstage, navigating past wires and sound men who barely gave them more than a curious glance and halted outside of what Adora assumed was the post-show designated relaxation zone, given that it was too big to be a dressing room and the overabundance of cheese platters on the table outside. Standing at the door was the brawniest lizard-kin Adora had ever seen. Rogelio would have looked like a scrawny teen next to him. His arms were crossed over his bare chest and he looked down at them with disdain.  
  
"Hey, big guy," Bow called to him. "We wanted to give No Plan B a congrats on completing their tour. Mind letting us in?"  
  
"Mind showing me a pass?" The lizard-kin grumbled back. When Glimmer passed him the same sheets of paper she'd used to get them in, he gave them a perfunctory once-over before tossing them back. "No pass, no going through."  
  
"Now hang on a minute," Glimmer said, voice rising as she snatched the papers out of the air. "We're not some groupies trying to pull one over on security. We're BFS. You know, the pop band?"  
  
The security guard only raised a single brow at that. "Do I look like the type of guy to listen to pop music, girly?"  
  
The disdain in his voice--as well as the dismissiveness--made Glimmer _bristle._ Adora put a warning hand on her shoulder, even though every part of her body was aching to find out if she could jump fast enough to punch him in the throat before he caught on.

Apparently not, if the way he dropped his arm to his sides and slowly widened his stance was anything to go on.  
  
"Whoa," Bow cut in, sensing the rising tension. "Just chill, everyone. Look, sir, I know you're just doing your job. But we can prove we're not just trying to pull one over on you.  
  
"She-" He gestured to Adora. "Grew up with Catra and the others. We just wanted a chance to drop in, say hi, and congratulate them on completing their first big tour and hitting the big time, that's _all."_  
  
"Prove it."  
  
"Oh that is _it_," At this point, Glimmer was nearly pulling out her own hair in frustration. She took half a step forward, starting to roll up her sleeves.

"Whoa!" Bow hastily moved between them, looking to the only other member of the trio for help. "Adora, you've still got that picture in your wallet, right?"  
  
But before Adora could reply or do anything beyond reach reflexively toward her pocket, the door behind the guard opened and another voice cut in. "Relax, Tung. They're with me."  
  
The lizard-kin _(Tung)'s_ entire demeanor changed in an instant as he hastily stepped to the side. Lonnie leaned against the doorframe, a surprisingly gentle smile on her face as she gave a little wave in their direction.  
  
Adora returned the smile. "Hey, Lonnie."  
  
"Hey yourself, Miss Big-Shot Popstar," Lonnie fired back, spreading both arms so Adora could hug her old friend and only chiding her a little. "Both arms, Adorkable, so I can pretend you actually missed me."  
  
Adora laughed, the dry wit still getting to her. "It's great to see you again."  
  
"Likewise. Come on back, see the rest of the crew."  
  
The rest of BFS moved to depart, but a lashing tail momentarily blocked their paths. Glancing up, they saw Tung rubbing the back of his neck a bit sheepishly (which was a weird look for a reptilian.) "Sorry about that, guys. But you wouldn't believe the crazy stories and forged documents some fans will come up with to try to get back here."  
  
The angry tension left Glimmer and she responded by playfully punching at his abdomen (which of course did next to nothing; the security guard was built almost literally like a brick house.) "Well, like Bow said, you were just trying to do your job."  
  
"Thanks for apologizing, though," Adora followed up with a smile, and was glad when the big guy flashed them a thumbs up and waved them through.  
  
Inside the room, there were a couple of couches and a coffee table festooned with empty water bottles and deli sandwiches, as well as much of the band's gear stowed in the corner. Rogelio and Kyle sat on the floor talking animatedly between them while Kyle was winding up cords (leaving Rogelio's hands free so he could sign); the two jolted up with a look of surprise when the trio entered, grins spreading across their faces as they pulled each other to their feet and dashed over to give Adora a hug. All of a sudden, Adora's world was consumed in green scales and floppy hair and leather jackets and just the happy _noise_ of seeing them both again.

"Oh my God, how have you been?"_ 'What have you been up to?'_ "Is that the rest of your band?" _'Which one is the bassist?'_ "Did you miss us?"_ 'We missed you, you big dork. Don't keep us waiting this long again!'_  
  
Scorpia, who had been seated on the couch thumbing delicately through a magazine, got to her feet as well and exchanged a knowing smile with Lonnie. "So _this_ is what you've been up to these past few days."  
  
Lonnie winked and slid an arm around her waist.  
  
The next two minutes were a whir of noise and motion as Adora struggled to answer the questions Kyle bombarded her with while also reading Rogelio's signs and trying to answer both, until the two finally seemed to realize what was happening and stepped back to take a moment to calm down. Meanwhile, as Adora tried to get her breath back, Bow and Glimmer introduced themselves to both Scorpia and Lonnie (Scorpia and Glimmer in particular hit it off immediately by trading drum tips, each complimenting the other on her technique.)  
  
It was _wonderful._ But Adora was also acutely aware of what was missing. Pulling away, she scanned the room to confirm her suspicions.  
  
A certain guitar wasn't there, nor was its owner. Adora's mouth went dry, her heart beginning to pound in double time. _What if..._  
  
_"Down,_ girl," Lonnie gave Adora a knowing look as she tossed her a water bottle. "Catra stepped out to grab us some coffee from the break room like two minutes before you guys showed up. Assuming she isn't ambushed by suits on her way back, she'll be here in a second."  
  
"Am I really that transparent?" Adora chuckled, even as she unscrewed the cap on the water bottle and took a shaky sip, both glad and disappointed at having a few more minutes to collect herself before...  
  
"As a glass bottom boat on the Dead Sea," Lonnie shot back, rolling her eyes and shaking her head judgingly. "But Catra's been just as bad, so it's fine."  
  
_"Really?!"_ Adora wanted to slap herself, but she still couldn't help how fast or how eagerly the word came flying out.  
  
_'Oh my God,'_ Rogelio signed, shaking his massive head at her. _'Seriously, Adora?'_  
  
"Seconded," Lonnie said with a high five to the bassist, before turning to look at Glimmer and Bow. "Be honest with me: has it been as bad for you guys as it's been for us?"  
  
"You mean the pining and the pillow screaming and the talking logic into circles to avoid having to do anything about it?" Glimmer grinned wickedly. "I think we're about even."  
  
Even _Kyle_ got in on the action, glancing at Bow and Glimmer with a wry smirk while Rogelio tried (and failed) to hide a snorting chuckle in his boyfriend's hair. "Our condolences. We know how hard that can be."  
  
"We should start a support group," Bow replied with a grin of his own. "Call it the 'Concerned Bystanders of Useless Lesbians' support group. Or the 'C-BUL' group for short."  
  
Adora's jaw dropped. _Did he actually prepare that one in advance?!_  
  
"I'll make the jackets!" Scorpia pitched in with a cheer. "I'm thinkin' sleeveless plaid for that maximum queer punk energy..."

Forget Catra pouring water over herself on stage, clearly _this_ was how Adora was really going to die: getting ruthlessly and thoroughly dragged by her best friends, the people she grew up with, and one new acquaintance, while the woman who was in all likelihood the love of her life (as well as Adora's sole remaining ally in this sea of _backstabbers)_ had stepped out for coffee at the worst possible moment.  
  
But before she could do anything about the redness of her face or even come up with a decent quip to fight back with, the door on the far side of the room flung open and said love of her life dove in after it, whirling on her heel and slamming it shut once more with a grunt.  
  
And just like that, the world itself fell back into place like it had never been off balance.  
  
"Jesus Christ, those guys do _not_ let up," Catra--guitar slung over her back and a set of paper cups balanced on a styrofoam tray in one hand--panted hard and leaned her forehead momentarily against the closed door while Adora greedily dragged her eyes across every inch of her.  
  
Now that they were closer (and on the same vertical plane) she could soak in all the little details. A little taller, her shoulders broader from years of exercise and lugging heavy equipment in and out of vans, and there was a notch in the back of her right ear that brought a sharp frown to Adora's face.  
  
But it was still her. Finally, after ten long years, it was _her._  
  
"Fanboys? Or agents trying to scalp us?" Lonnie asked, voice a million miles away and half-underwater.  
  
"Worse: _venue owners_," Catra replied with a shudder as she straightened up and combed back her mane, continuing to speak as she turned toward the rest of the room. "Anyway, Lon, I got you some chamomile tea. You were getting a little croaky towards the end ther-"  
  
And then she _froze,_ mouth still open as her eyes zeroed in on Adora.  
  
And Adora? She was caught in the exact same situation, her breath catching in her chest as she watched the way Catra's eyes darted over her, pupils blown and drinking her in the same way Adora had been doing only moments before. When their eyes met again...  
  
It felt like coming home.  
  
_"Oh,"_ Catra breathed, and just like that, Adora knew exactly what to say.  
  
She smiled. "Hey, Catra."  
  
And the laugh she received in return would be one she'd carry with her for the rest of her life. "Hey, Adora. How's it hangin'?"

\----------

But the thing about perfect moments was that they had to end eventually.  
  
"Wow," Scorpia said from behind her. "I didn't really get what you guys meant about the whole 'rest of the world ceasing to exist when they look at each other' thing, but I think I see it now."  
  
"Now try growing up with that for ten long years," Lonnie said with an exaggerated groan, dragging one hand down her face as she leaned into Scorpia for dramatic effect. "Feel my pain, babe."  
  
"Aww, want me to kiss it better?"  
  
A gasp. "You tease."  
  
"Methinks the useless lesbian syndrome is spreading," Glimmer chuckled as she nudged Bow.  
  
"Well we can rest easy knowing it's contained for now. Nothing but gays and bisexuals left here to function in polite society."  
  
_'Our city now.'_  
  
Meanwhile, with the spell between them momentarily broken (_thanks Scorpia!_) Adora found both herself and Catra doing their best imitation of a pair of awkward teenage wallflowers trying to ask the other to dance. So lots of neck rubbing and blushing and resolutely looking anywhere _but_ at the object of her affections.

And ordinarily she would have found the thought of Catra being _bashful_ to simultaneously be the most hilarious and endearing thing she'd ever come up with, but right now... Well, that was one of the weird trade-offs of growing up practically joined at the hip. While there had been some embarrassment mixed in (puberty in particular had been an absolute nightmare, especially once Catra's jawline sharpened and she took up what baby gay Adora had mentally referred to as her "hot jerk slouch") it had never fetched up against the core of what Adora _felt_ for her. Regardless of what went on in her life, her love and affection for Catra remained more or less a given; it just _was,_ the same way the midday sky was blue and their bed was warm and Shadow Weaver was _fucking awful_.  
  
A universal constant, something Adora could set her life's compass by.  
  
And now she had to laugh at all the times over the past ten years she'd worried about that changing, about running into Catra some day and the sparks failing to reignite. Because right now, standing in front of her again as they each darted glances at the other and traded the same small smiles, it was all Adora could do to keep from bursting into flames.  
  
_This is what I couldn't give up. This feeling, right here. _  
  
"Okay, I think we need to leave these two alone for now," Bow sing-songed, jolting Adora out of her thoughts once more.

Nodding in agreement, Kyle marched over and plucked the tray of drinks from Catra's barely functional hands, mouthing a silent "thank you" to her before hustling out behind Rogelio, who held the door for him.  
  
"Yeah, I think our work here is done," Glimmer chimed in with a yawn and stretch. "Hey Lonnie, wanna go see if we can bully some paparazzi by answering their questions in the most one-sided and circuitous way possible?"  
  
"Knights and Knaves? Sure, I'm in," Grabbing Scorpia's claw in her hand, Lonnie made to go after the rest of the group, only pausing to shout back over her shoulder. "Ok, bye bye kids! Be good! Stay safe! Use a dental dam!"  
  
"Swear to God, Lonnie, I will put jumping spiders in your underwear drawer!"  
  
"Coulda lived my whole life without knowing about your weird kinks, furball. Later!"  
  
And the door slammed shut behind them.  
  
And they were alone.  
  
_Wow._  
  
_Okay, Eternia,_ Adora thought, coaching herself just like she did before tackling any obstacle._Though tackling Catra sounds like a good ide- FOCUS! You've got this. It's just Catra, after all. _  
  
Yeah, right. That was like saying the sun was "just" a ball of burning gases; technically true in the loosest sense, but doing absolutely nothing to convey the magnitude of being up close and personal with it.  
  
Man, she was so screwed.

_Ok, you know what? Screw it. I'm gonna just open my mouth and let whatever comes out break the ice. Anything to get past this._  
  
"I mis-"  
  
"Adora, I-"  
  
They both froze, staring at each other, before bursting out into laughter, doubling over and clutching at their sides over how absurd this all was.  
  
"Oh my God," Catra choked out between her little high-pitched cackles. "We are twenty-eight years old! We can rent a car! We do _taxes_! How are we so _bad_ at this?"  
  
"You can hire other people to do your taxes. This talking thing? Completely different ball park," Adora wiped away a few tears from her eyes before straightening and beaming at Catra. "I missed this."  
  
Catra's tail lashed behind her as an involuntary purr rumbled through her chest. "I missed this too."  
  
She extended a hand towards the couch. "Sit with me?"  
  
And well, she didn't need to ask twice. Adora practically flopped onto the seat, wiggling around and trying to get comfy without disturbing any of the magazines or water bottles littering the floor around the coffee table. Catra chuckled at the display and took a seat beside her, politely maintaining a respectful distance between them.  
  
The knowledge of the things they would _have_ to talk about eventually charged the air between them, like the build-up just before a lightning strike.  
  
"So..." Catra drawled, while Adora waited with bated breath to see which one of them cracked first.  
  
"What exactly does 'BFS' stand for?"  
  
Adora blinked at the curve ball, before bursting into snorting laughter. "Really, Catra? After all this time, that's the first thing you ask me?"

"Hey, it's a legitimate question!" Catra's eyes sparkled as her tail whipped excitedly against the back of the couch. "And I'm pretty sure my first question was 'How's it hanging?' You know, just to be accurate."  
  
"You are such a jerk," Adora laughed again, unconsciously leaning in until one arm brushed against Catra's. Neither of them pulled away. "And if you want 'accurate'... Well, if you ask either Bow or the PR department, it stands for 'Best Friends Squad'."  
  
"God, that is so lame I think it claimed one of my nine lives." Catra grinned, leaning in conspiratorially as she whispered. "So what's the real explanation?"  
  
"What makes you so sure there is one?"  
  
"C'mon, Adora, I think we know each other better than that."  
  
And honestly? Adora was beginning to believe it. _The more things change, the more they stay the same._  
  
"BFS stands... For 'Big Fucking Sword.'"  
  
Catra blinked once, then twice, ears perking up as comprehension washed over her. Then she burst out laughing. "Oh my God, you humongous _dork!"_  
  
"In my defense," Adora grinned, already mentally committing this moment to memory. "I wanted it to be 'Big Fucking Sword-Lesbian,' but we couldn't come up with a good alternative acronym that would let us get away with it."  
  
"Plus 'BFSL' is unwieldy as fuck. BFS? Much cleaner. Rolls off the tongue."  
  
"That's what she said."  
  
"Damn right I did," Catra winked, then suddenly softened. Ears relaxed, tail swishing back and forth at a much slower pace, occasionally brushing against Adora's arm. She just sat there, watching Adora... Until a small shadow passed over her face.  
  
"We're gonna have to talk about it, huh?"  
  
And there it was, sitting out in the open like the targets plastered across both their throats.  
  
"I guess," Adora sighed, breaking eye contact to stare at a very engrossing water stain on the other side of the room."I mean, that's how my therapist would say we should handle it."  
  
A snort. "You got one too?"  
  
"Duh," She answered with an eyeroll. "That's basically a rite of passage for any Fright Zone survivor. Graduate, sign on with the Horde or go to college, get drunk the first time, find a therapist to help you unpack your trauma. You know, normal stuff."  
  
"I'd drink to that," Catra chuckled, before sighing and leaning forward, hands laced together across the void of her separated knees. A focusing point; Adora recognized _that_ one from her own playbook. "Look, I just... Fuck, this is harder than I thought."  
  
"Believe me, I get that. You know... I saw your interview on Monday."  
  
Catra's ears pricked forward. "Really?"  
  
"Yeah... Turns out Bow's a big fan of your work," Adora's head drooped a little, smile going a little brittle as she remembered all she'd heard and felt in the past five days. "It, uh... It gave me a lot to think about."  
  
"Sounds about right."  
  
"And by 'a lot to think about' I mean I spent four days either locked in my room or beating the shit out of my punching bag until it threatened to call the police on me."  
  
"There we go! _That's_ what I was waiting for."

Adora shoved her. "Oh lay off! You literally composed a rock _sonata_ over a single weekend when we had that big fight when we were fifteen! You're just as bad as I am!"  
  
"Oh yeah. Man, what was that fight even about?"  
  
"You left a dead mouse on my pillow, and apparently I didn't show the appropriate amount of appreciation when I chucked it out the window."  
  
"Oh. Right. Magicat puberty _sucked."_  
  
"I think puberty sucks regardless of what species you are."  
  
"Yeah, I still remember that time your period came unexpectedly on our day off and I had to go beg the nurse for tampons and friggin' Shadow Weaver came skulking in. I think some of my back fur went _white_ after that one."  
  
And well, the mention of Shadow Weaver, even in an offhanded context... That put a damper on the mood.  
  
"Listen," Catra said, gently reaching out to tap Adora's jaw until she turned to face her again. "I... I _really_ wasn't in a good headspace back then. You know, after everything."  
  
"No shit," Adora volleyed back, a little harsher than she'd wanted, so she hastily backtracked. "I mean, you had literally just lost nearly all mobility in your dominant hand. I'd say that's a pretty good reason to be off your game."  
  
"Maybe," Catra exhaled heavily, blowing a lock of wild hair out of her eyes. "But I was weak. And I let myself give in to things I really shouldn't have."  
  
"Like what?"  
  
Catra stared at her for a long moment, and for a second Adora thought she saw that shadow forcing its way into her features. "You remember my night terrors?"  
  
Adora sucked in a deep breath, held it. Breathe in, breathe out.  
  
"Ok," She said, turning her body so that their knees were touching and she was looking straight at Catra. "First things first. Catra... You know I would never physically hurt you, right? I mean, unless we decided to tussle and I accidentally knocked you down the stairs again-"  
  
"Ugh, that was _one_ time, Adora."  
  
"But be real with me for a minute. You do know that... Right?"  
  
Catra looked up at her, mismatched eyes steady and unwavering before heaving a heavy sigh and settling back against the couch. "Yeah, I know. Trust me when I say that was never in question."

"Good. So you'll understand exactly what I mean when I tell you that right now, I want to smack you upside the head."  
  
"Adora!"  
  
_"Yes,_ I remember the nightmares, Catra! Did you hit your head so hard that you forgot me humming you to sleep nearly every other night for over a decade?" It was a low blow and she knew it, but right now the humming anger in her veins was too wild for her to even think of stopping.  
  
"Of course not!" Catra declared hotly.  
  
"Then why on earth would I forget something like that? And for the love of God and Dmitri _God-damned_ Shostakovich, do not sit there and tell me that you ditched me for ten years over a fucking _dream!"_  
  
Had there been an observer in that room (one not tragically caught up in the firestorm of Adora's volatile emotions) they would have been able to hear a pin drop in the silence that blanketed it after.  
  
"... Did you seriously just use your favorite classical composer's name as a swear?"  
  
_"ANSWER THE FUCKING QUESTION, CATRA, OR I WILL SUPLEX YOU OFF THIS COUCH!"_  
  
"I got it, okay?!" Catra shouted back, raking her claws through her hair in jerky agitated motions. "Look... I just... You just don't get it, Adora!"  
  
"I'm not the one who-"

"Let me _FINISH_," She hissed, grabbing Adora's shirt with her right hand and forcing them both to maintain eye contact. "I listened to you, now you listen to me. And it's not your fault and I'm not blaming you, ok? I'm the one who never wanted to talk about it! I'm the one who was too damn scared to bring it up, because I was terrified that if I told you about the things I had seen you'd run screaming in the other direction. And I _never. Wanted._ _To hurt you_."  
  
They breathed the same air together, shaky, the gap between them mere inches that might as well have been miles. This close, Adora could see angry tears beading at the corner of Catra's eyes, despite the baring of her fangs or the angry wrinkling of her brow.  
  
That was what did it, in the end. Because no matter how angry or hurt or confused Adora felt, she just couldn't deal with Catra in pain. She never could.  
  
"Then talk," She whispered, and Catra's grip loosened on her shirt. Before it (_she_) could withdraw, Adora snaked her own hand up to grab it, hand blanketing the back of Catra's and interlacing their fingers. Keeping her in place. "Right here, right now. Help me understand."  
  
Catra exhaled, trembling as the adrenaline subsided, before nodding her assent.  
  
"I've lived most of my life dealing with the memories of a life that never happened to me. It started not too long after I was orphaned. Go figure, right? Good traumatic triggering, makes it nice and easy to diagnose.  
  
"Except it's not that simple. The world I glimpse in my dreams... It's so different from ours that it's almost surreal. A blasted hellscape of metal and steam, every corridor a minimalist nightmare. A bullshit princess castle built on top of a mountain in the middle of a bay. A forest with trees so big a single one seems to blot out the sky. It's... Incredible.

"And I destroy it all."  
  
Adora's brow furrowed, mouth opening, but she thought better of it in the end and waited for her to continue. Eyes dipping down to Adora's mouth for a split second, Catra pulled away. (Just a little, and she kept her hand where it was.)  
  
"The other me that's in those dreams... I don't even know how to describe it, Adora. She's eaten up inside by hunger and rage and pain. So much... And she's dealing with it in the worst way possible, and I'm just trapped in the passenger seat, watching her hurt you, Scorpia, some girl I haven't even met yet, even your two bandmates. Over and over again. It's all there."  
  
"I'm in the dream?"  
  
Catra nodded. "You always have been. Fuck, it sounds completely insane, but I was dreaming about being tortured by Shadow Weaver months before I even _met_ the evil old bitch. How do you even begin to explain something like that?"  
  
Adora had no idea. In fact, she was still struggling to process it herself.  
  
"Hell," Catra laughed bitterly. "For a long time I thought maybe I was schizophrenic or something, had holes in my brain messing with my perception, making me just think I saw Shadow Weaver in my dreams before I ended up at the Fright Zone. I even got a CAT scan done while I was in the hospital. Know what they found? Absolutely nothing.  
  
"I have spent my entire life being forced to watch another me make the worst possible decisions at every turn and being utterly incapable of stopping it. So when my real life runs parallel to those dreams--and it happens alarmingly often--you'd better believe I fucking jackknife into the other lane."  
  
She stopped, shoulders shaking with the force of her breathing, but her gaze was magnetized to Adora's. "I've watched myself tear down an entire universe because I _couldn't_ let you go, Adora, because I _couldn't_ accept a world where you were happy without me. So when the time came for _me_ to make that call... I let go."  
  
And just like that, Adora _snapped._  
  
She exploded forward, arms wrapping around Catra, one hand twisting in her mane to cup the back of her head against her shoulder while her entire body heaved with sobs.  
  
"You idiot," She cried out into Catra's neck, all while Catra sobbed "I'm sorry" over and over again. "You absolute _idiot._ I would have been hurt either way, but I would have done _anything_ to hold onto you if you hadn't asked me to go."  
  
_"I know, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I knew using that against you was wrong and I did it anyway because I thought it was the right thing to do, but it hurt so much and I hated myself and Jesus Christ, Adora, I'm sorry."_  
  
God, they were a mess, rocking together on a couch that had probably seen the asses of more musicians than a spontaneous orgy at the Grammy awards. But if anyone had dared to walk through that door at that moment, whether they be angel or devil or fucking Shadow Weaver herself, they'd have gotten an electric guitar right to the face because Adora would _kill_ before she let anything get between her and Catra right now.  
  
"Don't you dare pull a stunt like that ever again," Adora hissed into the soft ruff of Catra's neck. "Hear me? I think I might die if you put me through that again."

"I dunno," Catra chuckled weakly through hiccups. "Having you haunt me for eternity sounds pretty good compared to the ghosts I've been dragging around."  
  
And at that, Adora pulled back, hands reaching up to frame Catra's jawline as she forced herself to _see_ everything; the good and the bad, the ugly and the beautiful, the pain and the solace.

Just Catra, with all her many faces and ghosts.  
  
"Don't pull away," Adora whispered. "You don't have to run and you don't have to drag me down. Just...  
  
"Just lean on me."  
  
Catra let out a single, shaking breath, ears flicking back and her tired eyes sliding shut as she learned in and pressed her forehead against Adora's. "I won't. I won't pull away."  
  
"You promise?"  
  
And there it was again, that absolute bone-deep _certainty_ that this had happened before, and would happen again, on and on into eternity.  
  
"I promise."  
  
And oh, _peace_ settled over her at last, all of the exhaustion of the day finally catching up with her. With both of them.  
  
Operating on long buried instinct, Adora nudged Catra 'til her head rested under Adora's chin, fingers feeling for that one spot at the base of her ears that always triggered a response, that turned the weak little purrs she started out with into a full-on rumble, until that sound threaded in and out of the rhythm of Adora's heart: the counterpoint she'd been missing all this time.  
  
It wasn't perfect. There'd probably be more misunderstandings down the road, instincts to be reexamined, long cultivated habits to be broken. There'd be more tears, more anger, more worry. Life would keep happening.  
  
But at that moment, twenty-eight years old and with the love of her life wrapped securely in her arms once more, Adora Eternia wouldn't have traded it for all the stars in the sky.

You do not have to be good  
You do not have to walk on your knees  
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.  
You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves.  
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.  
Meanwhile, the world goes on.

-Mary Oliver

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: One story closes, another begins. Catra Leandros is a child haunted by ghosts in her dreams and a persistent ache in her blood. But she's still caught a little off guard when one of her most beloved/hated spectres turns out to be her new roommate.


End file.
